Traffic snaked up the curves and rises of Yangminshan, occasionally coming to a standstill, scooters wending their way through impossibly tiny gaps to beat the cars to the top of the mountain. Officious police, frustrated in their job of traffic control as they limited the number of vehicles accessing the top mountain road, blocked the upper reaches of the mountain. The unthinkable had happened: snow had fallen on the tops of the slopes, creating a frenzy among Taipei’s citizens to get to the top and view this rare phenomenon. Those who made it to the top early proudly displayed little snowmen trophies on their bonnets as they drove back down the hill, probably only exciting further a group who were prepared to endure hours of traffic chaos to get a glimpse of the ice and snow. Incongruously and to the open jawed amazement of many, Ross and I guided the “Auburgino” the opposite direction with our two bagged surfboards on the roof. We had just “enjoyed” one of the most unforgettable surfs I have ever experienced. Temperatures had plummeted to previously unthinkable lows in the past week and although officially 7 degrees, the biting, ferocious onshore breeze found us shivering with cold before we even entered the water. Our thin spring suits afforded us just the barest of protection and we sat hunched on our boards, dangling our bare arms in the water to avoid exposing them to the icy winds. We had searched the north east coast for the best part of two hours for something rideable, until we weaved our way past a tiny temple and ducked in and out of residential parking areas, emerging at a sheltered end of the Green Bay beach. The waves were a fun 3 to 4 feet and peaking up on the outside before providing a deliciously tempting full ride on our backhand before speeding along an inner shallow bank. Finding it difficult to leave our new found sheltered haven, Ross and I stayed out for two hours, ensuring that my feet were numb when I eventually did get out, two slabs of surprisingly heavy meat dragging at the ends of my nearly equally frozen legs. We shook uncontrollably while we got changed in lightening fast time before enjoying the car heater on full as we guided the car up to the aforementioned strange scenario.
Apart from the arctic conditions, Cass and I have enjoyed a really relaxing, fun break, ending all too soon tomorrow. I have read the latest Sue Grafton book “Q is for Quarry” which was a wonderful way to while away a few hours in our cosy apartment. Her characters are so real and familiar to us now; it’s like pulling on an old pair of slippers as you slide into the invented world of PI Kinsey. Cass has been voraciously reading all manner of tomes in between being entertained by our new rampaging, fizzling friends Virg n Mary. These little kittens are such a delight. They’ve amazed us with all sorts of antics this week, they’re dexterous little beggars and have entertained us with back flips and leaps, playful fighting with each other which sometimes gets a little out of hand, one or other of the little fuzz balls letting out a long, deep growl of discomfort. They’ve taken to their gym and “new room” quite quickly as well and we have been very heartened to cup their ever growing fat little bellies in our hands. The two of them are real lap cats, belying their initial spitting, hissing frightened withdrawal from us in the first few days, they now contentedly curl up together on one or other lap, or sometimes separate so we have one hot little bundle each. They are also beginning to groom themselves well, at times, damp kitten pelts providing another new smell to the ever-increasing bank of different aromas!
Carl has bought a new car! We investigated an area of used car lots out on Weh Lin Rd before Chinese New Year together and made ourselves understood by scratching various numbers and years into the dust on car boots and bonnets, often with the addition of some numbers we know, in my case garnered through watching girly ads with phone numbers on the TV advertising all sorts of exotic goods (they feature on the fight/martial arts channel which I watch quite regularly, at least that’s my excuse!)
It’s a real beauty, quite similar in size and age to ours, so the Lochrins will no doubt be having lots of car adventures from here on in as well. Carl did a great job making himself understood by the Taiwanese salesman, with help of mobile phones and friends assisting with translations and question asking and answering.
We were invited to a special Chinese New Year’s Eve dinner with the Lee family downstairs and although filled with trepidation, our stomachs and noses escaped relatively unscathed. Linda, Mr. Lee’s daughter had invited us down with the promise of “special foods” especially prepared for the New Year. After experiencing some rather nauseating items at George’s house two years ago, to say we weren’t looking forward to the celebration is an understatement of epic proportion. Although I covered a reflexive gag when trying to consume a dumpling filled with marinated, raw, fish roe, the rest of the meal consisted mainly of cooked seafood, only some of which smelled as if it had been filtrated through used toilet paper. We had a great laugh with the family and gathered all sorts of local information, from the daughter’s jobs to the loud, obnoxious and very un-Chinese neighbour who seems to have commandeered Mr. Lee’s private park on the opposite side of the street!
Of course, we’re back to school tomorrow, buoyed by the possibility of Mum visiting us here for Spring break in April and the thought that we’re now in another downhill stretch before we once again arrive home in June for our long break. Taipei Life continues to throw up all manner of adventure and sights and sounds for us to savour: we can’t envisage why it won’t continue to do just that for some time to come.

Clandestine activities, secretive meetings and information gathering were all part of the past two week’s activities. This all culminated in the arrival to our home of two very cute kittens, Mary and Virgil (Virg ’n Mary) last Friday evening. They are about 6 weeks old sisters, basically tabbies, slightly fluffy and with a splash of white on their faces and bellies. They look very much alike, Virg being identified by a slightly whiter face and a reddish tinge on the shoulders. It was our 16th wedding anniversary and I snuck out to collect the kittens that had been kept at the local vet’s for the past week and a half. Cass nearly died of shock and has asked me not to give her such a fright in future, even though she thoroughly enjoyed the end result when she had calmed down a little. At first, the kittens seemed impossibly tiny and frail, shivering with fright and hissing and spitting at us every time we came near. After just 3 days with us however, they are becoming more used to our place and us and have entertained us with their speeding, skidding runs around the marble floors, tumbling over each other and fighting and leaping on one another. It’s actually quite mesmerizing watching them play, we were worried at first at how violent they were with each other but, after a half hour or so of the most frenetic fizzling, they trot back into their little bed and fall asleep on top of each other, cuddling up inside the old wool cardigan that Cassy has donated to them. Virg is purring contentedly when we have her on our laps and is the definite leader when it comes to adventure and naughtiness. I have had to kitten proof the place a little, even to the extent of taping plastic over the front of the video/DVD cabinet and stuffing books and pieces of wood in the cracks at the back to stop an ever inquisitive Virg from getting lost in the labyrinth of wires at the rear, which she did 4 times in succession on the first day! Mary is much more timid and when not acting as Virg’s punching bag, she prefers to sit and doze and make the occasional foray to the food and drink tray and also the litter tray, which both kittens, much to our horror, seem to have decided is another giant play pit that they can jump in and out of with gay abandon!
We lock the kitties in our second bathroom overnight and they seem perfectly content, not crying or whimpering at all. When we let them out in the morning, it is usually time for some celebratory high jinks, which have to be seen to be believed. As Cass said this morning, it’s like watching a cartoon on fast forward. In just a few days they seem to have put on a little weight which is great, their little round bellies belying the tiny faces with big ears and the little string bean tails.
I had asked around all the “cat people” at school in the previous weeks and they gave me some good advice, the last being to check out the local vets as people sometimes bring in abandoned kittens. When I enquired at one such vet’s close to our place, they informed me that two kittens had been brought in that morning. They were minute, but still full of fight and they were so wild that the assistant had to bring them out one by one cocooned in a towel. They hissed and scratched at me, but, wisely or not, I decided they were just what we wanted.
We have bought all the associated paraphernalia, including a quite impressive cat gym, with 3 levels of playing and house areas complete with scratching posts and a mouse on a string for boxing practice!
Apart from this, which has been pretty much all consuming this week, we have made a few trips out and about. Ross and I have been surfing in the increasingly frigid conditions at Jinshan point, and took advantage of our freedom on a weekday to surf yesterday, just the two of us. Unfortunately, the surf has not been kind to us and we were flung around like rag dolls in a very stormy and unfriendly swell, trying to catch reforms on the inner bank only to be crunched on a very shallow bank, or cleaned up by unrelenting sets when we made it out the back.
Cass and I set off down to the Taipei 101 (previously mentioned tallest building in the world), where the mall at the foot of the building is in full swing. The building itself is not open to the public yet, but the adjoining mall is lavishly fitted out, marble walls and floors and every brand name store in the world setting up their Taipei branches.
The most exciting find for us however, was Jason’s market in the basement area. Apart from fantastic cooked and uncooked foods from all types of world cuisine, there were a few other little gems. Just to mention a few, how about, Crunchies, Violet Crumbles, Mint Slices, whole ranges of Masterfoods and Fountain sauces and condiments, cook-in sauces, incredible range of Australian wines, Sanitarium products, Aussie breakfast cereals and wait for it….MEAT PIES! The latter come from Victoria and I have two secreted away in the fridge at this moment alongside a vegetable pasty for Cass for a “special occasion”. This kind of excitement may seem extremely bizarre, but we were like kids in a candy shop down there. Of course all these items come at a shocking premium in terms of price, sometimes quadruple what we’d pay back home, but a few special treats like this are very exciting.
We are having Carl and Hiroko, Ross and Ains, the amazing Gurecki and Himiko round here this afternoon for a few drinks and nibblies. Chad and Cathy were due to come as well, but Cathy has caught the flu and can’t make it. I’m sure the kitties will be a big hit with some of our visitors, and we need to go and clean up a bit before they arrive.

Prague’s airport was kind of cute after the monolithic, futuristic Hong Kong and the faded glory of Heathrow, but things went smoothly and the Air France city hopper delivered us to a strangely empty Charles de Gaulle in the early evening. After taxiing to the hotel at our well-known Cite Bergere in the 9th arrondissement, our room was a bit of a shock after our luxurious Prague digs. Typically Paris, especially on, perhaps not a beer budget, but cheaper red wine (!) our room had a bed and a TV on a bracket, a small cupboard and that’s about it! The bathroom had just been enlarged and remodeled and it was perfectly functional. To sum up, all that you need when you plan to soak up some sights and sounds by day and by night.
As expected, Cassy began babbling away in beautiful French straight away and I assumed my previous position of mute sidekick. One funny incident occurred however, when a lightbulb in our room blew and we sought a replacement from the desk. Cass had forgotten the word and launched in to a long-winded explanation of the object for the bemused man at the desk. After a while I just said “light bulb” in English and the man said “Ah, the bulb, the bulb!” I still had some limited use!
We wandered the immediate area on the first evening and started the inevitable comparisons. I think we both decided that the cities were very different. Paris has its own buzz and feel, decidedly busy and even a little haughty, while Prague exudes its own brand of laid-back charm relying on its architectural wonder to dazzle the visitor. Paris, of course, is not devoid of its own external beauties, and it couples this with an amazing surfeit of some of the most stupendous art to be seen anywhere in the world, be it built or painted or sculpted.
Bruno’s pizza and the first of many pichets of vin rouge were had for dinner till we went back to prepare for a week of adventure. The Pompidou centre had been closed for renovations on Cassy’s previous visits and we were both keen to go. A snaking slow line of disgruntled and cold looking visitors waiting to enter was a bit off-putting so we instead just wandered through the shops and made a few small purchases before watching the ice skaters in front of Town Hall and lunching on some takeaway baguettes overlooking the Seine. We went to Les Halles and bought our first of many carnets of 10 tickets to the metro and went to the Champs Elysees where we pre-booked some movie tickets to “Lord of the Rings” at the same enormous cinema where we saw “Titanic” some 6 years before.
The next morning I nearly died of shock when my sister Jen came walking into the breakfast room of the hotel. Somehow, she had acquired a new Italian husband and daughter, had lost her ability to speak English and learned fluent Italian and French, but it was Jen all the same. She walked and talked like Jen, she wore similar clothes, she was the same height and build and LOOKED just like her, but of course, it wasn’t. After summoning up our courage, we approached the at first bewildered family to explain why we had been staring open jawed at them. They were most fascinated with Cassy’s story (I was again superfluous, standing, grinning inanely!) and we took photos and swapped email addresses with a promise to send a photo of the “real” Jen on our return.
After that great excitement, we tried the Musee D’Orsay (long queue, raining) and experienced the same at the Louvre. Oh well, another day. We took a long walk in the icy conditions to the Eiffel tower and soaked up some excitement there, spoke to the first Aussies we’d heard on our trip to date and then went off to our movie which was an amazing spectacular, a fitting end to a beautifully worked trilogy. I pretended I was going to buy the new Mercedes sports car, which was one of the mercs on display in the showroom on the Champs Elysees, and we were given a French brochure, mainly for our capricious inquiries I suspect!
The next few days were spent visiting all types of galleries and museums, large and small, but all in their own way housing precious treasures that we viewed and wondered at, storing memories of their beauty till we return. The Pompidou Centre, a vast open design housing works of art from many eras was mind blowing. Rooms of Matisse led to rooms of Picasso and Liechtenstein, Mondrian and Renoir. After taking our fill of these paintings, we moved to spaces of a more esoteric nature, modern art installations that were thought provoking to just plain bizarre. To Cassy’s horror I surreptiously added a tiny key from my pocket to one such installation which just looked like a big room that people had thrown rubbish into. Perhaps it was just a French joke perpetrated by the gallery’s management!
The Musee Marmottan is one of Paris’ better-kept secrets. In a relatively tiny house in the suburbs, 65 of the most significant works of Claude Monet are displayed on plain curved walls with an unobtrusive lime-washed wooden floor. We wandered in a dream through this space, taking time to sit and watch these paintings in beautiful, serene surrounds. The impact of this space had lost none of its punch since our previous visits, in fact, it was enhanced if anything. It was truly a highlight for me, as I had this as my number one must-see on pre-trip itineraries.
The Musee D’Orsay was similarly stunning and we took the liberty to go straight to the areas that most interested us, no doubt bypassing a wealth of magnificent sculpture and art in so-doing, but allowing us not to get too museum weary. Once more impressionists were high on our list and more Monets and Pisarros and Sisleys were enjoyed with some delicate side dishes served by the not in consequential Renoir and a room of Van Gogh.
A press of humanity from French school holiday art lovers saw these spaces fairly crowded which decreased our viewing pleasure a little and we did endure an hour queuing to get in, mainly due to increased security checks, which were evident everywhere we went. That Osama has a lot to answer for!
We did a similar visit to The Louvre, selecting areas we wanted to see, and going to areas we had bypassed on other visits. Along with the impressionists, we also saw amazing Roman and Greek antiquities as well as corridors and rooms, seemingly without end, of ancient Egyptian artifacts.
Of course these visits were interspersed with lots of eating and wine and coffee drinking! We enjoyed a wide variety of Parisian cuisine, deciding, however that the best meals were had at the tiny, smoky bar/tabac in Rue Montmartre with its resident cat, Taqera, visiting each table to say hello. The Euro has certainly taken its toll on prices in the city. We didn’t worry too much about it, but it was very noticeable since our last visit. Paying $20 Australian for 2 cups of coffee at a small café probably sums it up!!
Cassy has insisted that I mention the cakes: I must admit that they were delicate and extremely delicious, the coffee éclairs that we ate in our room one night were divine.
We braved the super crush on the Metro on New Year’s Eve to get to the Eiffel Tower for midnight’s celebrations. We drank some beers and loved the atmosphere, crowds in front of the Palais de Chaillot pulsing with excitement as the time drew nearer. The tower was the focal point of course, but ornate old-fashioned merry-go-rounds and regular volleys of fireworks certainly added to the party atmosphere. The tower itself went off like a cracker at midnight, thousands of electric blue lights flashing all over the massive steel framework, an incredible sight. Getting home was another adventure, Cass getting her first taste of a really crowded train, the kind where no one needs to hang on, crushed unceremoniously into the carriages, breathing in the alcoholic fumes of hours of partying only to be disgorged into crumbling underground stations that never seem to lose an uncomfortable scent of stale urine.
Paris has not lost any of its sizeable appeal. The streets are always abuzz with action, the food fantastic and the spaces, monuments and museums unique. After this wonderful trip we wondered how we’d adjust back to life in Taipei, but after a long trip back, our driver waiting patiently at the airport for us, ushering us into his big, black car for the trip home we both had a sense of relief. This city is a second home to us now and we were happy to be back.

My late grandfather Dave came to mind more than once on our trip, the miniature
fairytale town of Old Prague as seen from afar, with its various spires and turrets frosted with a fresh night's snowfall, brought back memories of his Christmas dinner plate completely covered with a thin layer of salt, the turkey, ham and high sharp angles of pumpkin and his beloved sweet potato. The Christmas analogy didn't end there for me either as we passed by 100s of decorated spruces, cut from a forest and chocked up quite unceremoniously in various squares, streets and surprising little nooks and crannies. They were festooned with lights and decorations adding immensely to the Christmas atmosphere there and the myriad of historic gorgeous buildings were themselves like something from a fairytale. Cass and I were just filled with wonder day and night as the city was just achingly beautiful: it's difficult to believe that it survived so intact through wars and communism's decline and fall.
We'd just come in to the internet cafe after wandering the Charles Bridge again in the early evening. We were stirred from a little rest by the sound of screams and laughter coming from the street below, only to see a
wonderful fall of snow drifting down onto the street and people illuminated in the spotlights from the lesser town tower not 15 metres from our door. We walked the town each day and travelled on the metro as far as the end of
the line, giving us a jolt back from this storybook view to the stalag-like housing on the far reaches of town. The sterile and somehow frightening concrete blocks are placed so precisely, their car parks and recreation areas so bare, it must have been soul destroying to live and work in and from them. The great solace for the people must have been the thought that whatever deprivations they suffered could have been assuaged slightly by
visiting their beautiful inner city.
Puppets and crystals and garnets and hats and gloves seemed to make up the vast majority of touristy shops and how they all make a go of it was beyond us. Cass bought some garnet earrings in one shop and the man told her there were "no tourists" here at this time of year. You could have fooled us!
However, we were pleasantly surprised at the paucity of loud tourists and those we did see and hear were invariably Czech, German or French.
The food was incredibly good, from potato pancakes and soups to pizzas and cakes and lots and lots of strong flavoursome coffees!
The cold was intense; we could feel it seep through the layers of clothing penetrating to the bone...slow and unstoppable, till we entererd a super heated shop or restaurant to feel our faces and hands tingle with shock and sit and wait till the heat crept up through the rest of our bodies.
We booked some tickets in the middle of the first row of the balcony for a Christmas Day gala concert at the Rudolfinum....Mozart, Smetana, Dvorak and Christmas carols with various famous Czech soloists etc. It was an amazing concert. The Czech Philharmonic came out for encores and vigorous applause to our delight and to top the evening off, we walked home afterwards through a gently swirling snowfall.
We had planned to eat our Christmas lunch among the excitement of Old Town Square at one of the flash outdoor eateries. We wouldn’t freeze, as they had huge gas heaters at every second table and we planned to eat, drink, be merry and soak up yet more of what must indeed be one of the world’s most beautiful cities.
Minus six degrees gets pretty cold when you’re exposed for a few hours and we regularly ducked into little cafes to have an espresso during our outings. Stripping off the layers of coats, jumpers, scarves and gloves got just a touch wearisome after a while, but we got very skilled at it. While waiting for the coffee to be delivered we always felt our faces tingling as they adjusted to the heat and a slow thawing of our chilled bones was complete just before we decided to venture out again for a few hours. Darkness began to shroud the outlines of Prague by 4pm each day and it was night by 5, but a magical quality of the dusk was the lights coming on over Charles Bridge, just vaguely illuminating faces of passers-by, buskers and sellers, but always in a soft, golden light. We enjoyed our walk home each day at this time, with great plumes of condensed breath billowing out in front of us as the temperature seemed to drop even lower. We always came home over Charles Bridge, carefully sliding our feet over slick cobblestones to avoid a fall, and slipping into our little haven to the obvious surprise of many, so close to the end of the bridge. We usually did our thawing routine and popped under an incredibly light and warm silk quilt for a read or a quick viewing of some quirky and completely incomprehensible Czech TV before heading out again for tea.
The restaurants were plentiful and varied in menu, to the extent that we were never sure what to eat. Cass took a real liking to the traditional Czech fare of potato pancakes and goulash, while I was very keen on the “new” Czech fad of pizza! So many little restaurants had pizza on the menu, but with a twist. They were always wood fired and had that distinctive smoky taste and texture, but had the freshest of ingredients you could possibly imagine. In fact, one ‘Hawaiian’ variety I tried didn’t really work, because the pineapple was too sweet and delicious for the tomato base and the ham too flavoursome. Ah well, not too much to complain about! Our breakfasts were part of our accommodation package and we ate at a very flash, slick restaurant just up the road from our apartment each day. Mouth watering omelets with smoked salmon one day and full English breakfast with roasted tomato, bacon, eggs, sausages, toast and baked beans the next, always washed down with fresh squeezed grapefruit juices and the ubiquitous power packed double espresso. If this wasn’t grand enough, our apartment service contact Helena had organized an alternative venue for breakfast on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day as our usual would be shut. She arranged for an open voucher at Prague’s newest and flashest hotel, “The Aria” for those days. My Dad would have been proud of both of us in this “pre-paid” heaven, as we partook of all the freshly cooked delights and pastries etc with great gusto and enjoyed our luxurious surrounds. After our liveried doorman eventually farewelled us, we were well fortified for another day’s adventure in the cold.
An interesting experience was a cruise on the river, which, while a terrific experience, was not the real highlight. The cheeky guide and commentator was cracking extremely funny jokes which no-one else on the boat seemed to get. He was a scream as he described what he saw as the government’s failure to build a super highway from Wenceslas Square, through the heart of the old town, across the river and through the mountain on the far side. We were rolling around laughing and he gave us a little wink, but most of the others on the boat seemed to be horrified as his deadpan delivery didn’t give much away. The great thing was that he didn’t dissuade them from their views and after a number of quips about knocking down old buildings and building skyscrapers he had stunned his audience to complete silence!
We had many other highlights, too many to mention. Suffice to say that Prague is a fairytale city, old buildings with ornate facades stretch from one end of the city to the other, down every back street and nook and cranny, the grand and famous buildings around the town square just the appetizer to a smorgasbord of architectural allure. When snow dusts the roofs and the streets its magical qualities are even further enhanced and buildings illuminated in the evenings just take your breath away.
As the taxi drove us over the hill of old Prague and out along the flat stretch before the airport, we were jolted back into some sense of reality as the intricate stonemasonry and quaint designs of houses gave way to communist era concrete blocks again, sterile and confronting, yet I had a tiny stab of pleasure as I noticed the graffiti on the sides of some: a little piece of creative expression that certainly would not have been tolerated before 1989.
We wondered how we would react to Paris after Prague. Had we been so well seduced by this city that Paris would pale in comparison? In just a couple of hours, we’d find out.