Suho Memorial Paper Museum

Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground
and dies, it remains only a single seed.
John 12:24
In October 1990, a plane crash in China’s Guangdong province killed Su Ho Chen, founder of the Chang Chuen Cotton Paper Co. Five years later behind a storefront in central Taipei, his daughter ensured his memory would live on.

I, too, work in a paper factory of sorts, and in my advancing age have developed a fondness for Japanese fountain pens and the perfect paper on which to apply them. That, and a desire to do something less obviously touristy, led me to the Zhongshan District and the Suho Memorial Paper Museum, a small four-story affair on 长安街, Long Peace Street, one of the first Mandarin place names I learned months ago. So there are a few reasons why this was a date with destiny.

We come into critical contact with paper every day, whether reading or butt-wiping, and seldom give it a second thought. But it is a creation of man, not nature, and the secrets of its production were guarded until the eighth century, when Chinese papermakers were captured by Arab fighters in the Battle of Talas (751). The technique would not reach America for another 900 years.

The coolest thing about the Suho Museum is the ability to make your own paper, and on a simple rooftop studio, two Chinese-speaking classmates and our instructor, Neben, did just that.

First, take a handful of pulp and squeeze the moisture out of it.

Swirl it around in a tub of water until it separates. Then, dunk one of these linen-covered wooden frame, or deckles, into the tub.

The linen will pick up the suspended pulp particles. Hoist out the frame and decorate the captured pulp, Asian-style, with leaves from the many planters nearby.

Sorry, I’m not very artistic.

Press it dry with three sheets of thick paper. Don’t pat it, or the cellulose fibers will break apart. Once the water has been squeezed out, apply more blotting paper and start smacking it like it’s a conga and you’re Tito Puente. Wipe the linen backing with a cloth, then remove it.

My paper! It’s red because that’s the color of the pulp. We didn’t have a choice.

After about 20 minutes of drying, you can pick it up at the front desk. I waited out the interval in an adjacent bamboo house, alone. A nice young woman brought me a cup of hot strong tea.

On this day the class was free because the second story was under renovation. Visiting the Suho Museum was a simple and sweet experience. I’m glad I went. And Neben taught me to write my name in Chinese.

Affectionately ...

Suho Memorial Paper Museum

Address: 68 Chang'an E. Road, Sec. 2

Subway: Songjiang-Nanjing station, Songshan-Xindian (green) line

Take a right out of Exit 8, walk two or three blocks, then a left.
Open: 10-4, Mon-Sat.
Admission: $100NTD; paper-making class $180
Website: suhopaper.org.tw

An amusingly naive ranking of other people's hometowns

Many caveats. Among them:

1. I was dizzy with hunger and fatigue when I recorded this, which may explain why I used the word “amazing” four hundred times.
2. My priorities (expense, bicycle-friendliness, ease of public transportation, beer, food, music — roughly in that order) are perhaps unhelpfully idiosyncratic.
3. I nearly cried real tears when I left Seoul. But as Hyman Roth said in "Godfather II," "This is the business we've chosen." We're consumers of travel and have choices.
4. All of the destinations I mention are eminently worth visiting.
5. Calling Cremona “the Wisconsin of the U.S.” was an enormous flub. I was trying to make a broader point about the province of Lombardy. To be precise, Cremona is the, um, La Crosse of Italy. It’s a little hard to get in and out of, the nearest airport being hours away.
6. I significantly underplayed the beauty of Turin’s natural setting. It is a knockout. But its gilded baroque coffeeshops, like Vienna’s, just aren’t for me.
7. I wasn’t hard enough on Amsterdam. Until the city fathers get mopeds off the segregated bike paths, the bicycle scene there is not what it’s cracked up to be. And you can count the number of excellent beer bars on less than one hand.
8. Istanbul is singularly unforgettable, and I forgot to mention the water taxis, which considerably up its convenience and visual appeal. Just stay in Beyoglu or the Asian side — anywhere but Sultanahmet. When I visited in 2011, many websites were blocked by the judiciary, and musclebound plainclothes police continue to make sure free speech remains an abstract concept. (See: Taksim, 2013.) Still, it could have been in the top spot had I chosen my living quarters more wisely.
9. My view of Cairo is skewed because I arrived during Ramadan three weeks after the coup, but I insist its historical weight more than makes up for a surfeit of inconveniences. On the debit side of the ledger, El-Sisi, a mollusk of a man and darling of the American right, is another in a long line of dictators whose secret police just happened to kill dozens of people per night during my visit for the crime of being too Muslim. Though low-level lawlessness is widespread, it is safer to walk down a dark alley since the general took power, and I suspect now is a better time to go. The average uniformed policeman is benign, and tourists are generally treated as precious cargo.
10. Drivers will wait 30 seconds, longer even, to make a right turn in Berlin because they are checking behind them for bicycles. To my mind, this is the true measure of a city.

Taipei Zoo

A bit of a raw day, and it should be cool and drizzly for awhile. I hate to generalize, but what the heck: Asians hate anything resembling cold, and I saw quite a few goose-down parkas today in 60F weather. Rode a bike halfway, then took a train to the Taipei Zoo, and rather than get all chatty about it, here’s a look.

P.S.: If you want your heart to stop from cuteness, check out baby Yuan Zai on YouTube.

Taipei Zoo
Hours: 9-5 every day; closed Feb. 18
Price: $60NTD adults, $30 children; preschoolers free
MRT: Taipei Zoo Station, last stop on Wenshan-Neihu (brown) line.

Sesame-encrusted pork bun

Your mission, should you choose to accept it: Head to the Shilin night market (MRT stop Jiantan). Assuming you are coming from the south, walk in the same direction as your train until you reach a fork in the road. Veer left.

Take a right and a left. Yes, yes, everything looks good, but you've got a job to do. Stay focused.

One more right, and a sharp left. Look for the longest line you can find and take your place. After a minute, turn around. See those dozens of people? They now want to trade places with you.

This is the place you want. Memorize this sign. Tattoo the characters on your forearm. No, I don't know what it's called. Do I look Chinese?

Give 'em some room. Professionals at work.

 

When you reach the counter, hold up one finger (or two or three, etc.)

Your reward. The best fifty bucks you ever spent.

Tap it with your fingernail. Sounds like a castanet. Watch passers-by nod knowingly, longingly. Take a fat bite of tender braised pork belly and minced scallion. Steady yourself as the steam fogs your glasses.  Well done, agent, and good luck finding your way home.

This elevator is as fast as a greyhound

You are not likely to have a more cosmopolitan experience than standing in line in Taipei to enter the world’s fastest elevator. Seems there are many fans of supertalls, and while waiting to ascend the sixth-tallest skyscraper on the globe, I heard people speaking Russian, German, Arabic, Japanese, English and Thai.

Entering Taipei 101 through the ground-floor entrance, there was a lot of confusion among visitors where to go to find the elevator (psst: You want 5F). If you emerge from the subway stop, however, you can’t miss the signs. And, hey, the view from the fifth floor is pretty good as it is. Do I really need to pay the $500 NTD to go to the observation deck? It is a personal decision — one I hope I can help you make. Five floors up:

Taipei 101, named for its number of floors, became the world’s tallest building in 2004 and held the title for six years. Today, Dubai is the mecca for supertall aficionados, hosting 11 of the top 50. (Istanbul’s Sapphire, which I wrote about in 2011, has fallen all the way to No. 196!)

I waited 14 minutes in line. The ride to the top is astoundingly fast. They turn off the lights for some reason, perhaps to take your mind off the fact that your inner ear feels like it will explode. Keep in mind you are traveling from the fifth floor to the 89th floor in under 40 seconds, reaching a top speed of 37.7 mph (i.e. greyhound). The elevator must slow down considerably toward the top, obviously, or our heads would slam into the ceiling. (Memo to Taiwan: Could be faster!) In any case, the camera does not lie.

OK, so that is pretty fucking cool. The air quality in Taipei is passable, as you can see. It’s a cleanroom compared to Seoul.

This may be partly a function of population. Taiwan has three cities that are bigger: New Taipei, Keelung and Taichung. (I think this would be an easy bet to pull off: “I’ll wager you Taipei is not the biggest city in Taiwan. Probably not even second or third. Just have a gut feeling.” Try it!)

This 700-ton steel ball, a “tuned mass damper,” is suspended from the 92nd to the 87th floor.

It sways slightly to offset movements in the building caused by earthquakes and strong typhoon winds. I’ll let the, er, Damper Babies explain. 

So what’s not to like? Well, it’s a little pricey ($16 USD), and every step of your journey is monetized along the way. It’s not just the beer and pineapple mango cake peddled at the top, nor the postcards and tokens pressed into Taipei 101 coins. Everything, seemingly, is for sale, including a picture of yourself taken while you were waiting in line downstairs. And, of course, the Damper Babies want you to take them home.

When you think you’ve had enough, you must wait in another long line for the elevator ride back down. But first you are funneled through a coral-jewelry shop and reminded what a great investment these pieces are.

So is it worth zooming up Taipei 101? Put it this way: If I hadn’t done it, I would regret not knowing just how claustrophobic and used it made me feel.

There are plenty of other reasons to visit. The building itself is an architectural and engineering marvel. These soaring buttressed windows remind me of European railway-station architecture.

The multistory shopping mall is intense. The storied Singaporean tea emporium TWG is here.

 
And there’s a pretty great supermarket and food court in the basement.

Even better: There’s a YouBike station outside, so you can make a quick getaway from the creepy Falun Gong protesters, assorted grifters and various guys on the sidewalk trying to sell you stuff out of duffel bags. Have fun!

Taipei 101
Address: Srsly?
MRT: Taipei 101 station, Xin-Yi (red) line
Hours: 9 a.m.-10 p.m.; last ticket sales 9:15 p.m.

Bicycling in Taipei

I rode a public bicycle today from Taipei 101 to Ximen station, glancing at a compass only twice, and all the old instincts came rushing back, like a cooped-up sheepdog finally let out with the flock, singing “It’s a Small World (After All)” to Daan Park, and then switching inexplicably to “Midnight at the Oasis” for the remainder. My brain offers no choice what is voiced; it knows only that singing promotes a state of relaxed awareness — the kind needed to swim with the motorbike girls and shameless bus drivers who, as they do around the world, honk at you WHILE cutting you off. From Tucson to Taipei, they need to be thrown into re-education camps. I had so much fun, though, that I forgive them all.

Sunrise in Taipei

Not that I’ve actually seen the sun in four days, but if you can’t sleep or the night stretched on a little longer than planned, few things are more enjoyable than seeing your city in its pajamas. Makes for some no-stress bicycling, too.

Making deliveries:

Kneading dough for pork buns:

Taiwan's equivalent of the White House — the Presidential Office Building — is at left.

Some guards with rifles were doing a manual-of-arms drill. When I tried to take a picture, one of them rushed at me waving his arms. I raised my hands like a Ferguson protester, my camera dangling from its wrist strap. He smiled, but I won't be trying that again.

A seven-story thermometer on Chongcing Road:

There are now 200 YouBike stations in Taipei. I got this three-speed on Zhongshan Road.

They have a Shimano Nexus hub, a dynamo hub for nighttime lighting, a basket with built-in lock and a ridiculously robust skirt guard. The bikes, made by Giant, are made for short trips, which is a good thing, because they're also made for short people. Even with the seat raised all the way, you won't get a proper fit if you're over 5 feet 9 inches.

At this moment, American visitors will have a hard time renting them because you need a credit card with an EMV smart chip or a phone with a local SIM card with which to register your EasyCard. This will change in 2016 when we catch up to the rest of the world, but for now, good luck. Most of the 7-11 clerks here speak some English, but if yours doesn't and you want an EasyCard, ask for a "yo-yo kah." They're only $100 NTD ($3 USD) and once you load them, they can be used for bus and subway travel, as well as most convenience stores and some ferries. Pretty much everywhere except on the high-speed trains.

Speaking of bikes, if yours was made since the late 1980s, there is a 90 percent chance it was manufactured here.

Taipei's massive National Concert Hall:

And the CKS memorial, devoted to the man who was president of mainland China for seven months and premier of this nation/province/administrative district/whateveryouwanttocallit for 25 years.

The only people stirring on the grounds are those with fitness in mind. Backward walking (and jogging) is popular, and the tai-chi crowd was out.

Sunday's forecast is for partial sun. Whadda concept! Color me skeptical.