Das Road

  I reach the lower slopes and head for the tourist hotel where I am supposed to meet Bob. I clean up as much as possible in the lobby bathroom, but it is a lost cause. I’ll require a full shower to get all the black grime off myself. I peel off the top shirt; the one beneath is somewhat cleaner.

  Next stop, the elegant hotel restaurant for lunch.

  The Japanese wait staff is very polite, bowing to me and smiling as if I were some VIP. I can only imagine what they must be thinking, something like: “God, look at this dirty Yankee!”

  Bob joins me at my table. He looks neat and refreshed, as if he just stepped out of a toothpaste commercial.

  “I’m sorry, Tyler,” he says. “Somehow I packed your sweater in with my stuff.”

  Anger surges in my heart. I want to slug him, or at least scream a few obscenities. But then I recall the ‘expedition behavior’ philosophy of my wilderness survival course. Be tolerant of your companions’ failings, it taught, you never know when you’ll screw up yourself and need their forbearance.

  I paste on a smile. “No problem, Bob, I didn’t miss it.”

  20: Fringe of China – Taiwan

  I had throughout the faint feeling that everything was not square. – Thurnley Abbey, by Perceval Landon

  Things are expensive in Japan, and we’ll soon blow so much money that we’ll have had to curtail the rest of our trip. Bob really loves it here, though. In keeping with our no-expectations agreement, I tell him it’s all right if he chooses to stay.

  He prefers to come with me. I’m glad.

  He isn’t enthusiastic about Taiwan, ‘Nationalist China,’ but we won’t spend much time there. After that comes Hong Kong, and when I tell him about the gambling casinos in next-door Macau, his eyes light up.

  In the morning, we ride the subway train out toward the Tokyo airport. The car is largely empty when we get on, and we take seats facing the door. As we near downtown, however, briefcase toting ‘salary men’ start packing on. Soon it is standing room only. The air becomes stale.

  The train makes a stop, and a few lucky individuals escape. Then a powerful surge of salary men thunders aboard, uniformly dressed in dark, militaristic business suits, their faces blank. Wordlessly they occupy every cubic inch of space, compacting the flesh of anyone in their way. The car fills to the bursting point.

  The onslaught presses Bob and me into our seat; a black wall of business suits hovers over us. My claustrophobia kicks in big time. I feel suffocated, on the edge of panic. I look over at Bob. He manages a smile for me.

  “You know, Tyler,” he says, “we don’t do very well in crowds. Remember the street demonstration in Seoul?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Compared to that, the boat ride from Korea was party time,” Bob says. “At least we had rolling space. And that record player! I wonder if Rolf is still dragging it around.”

  I manage a chuckle, and my terror retreats slightly. Bob launches a barrage of humorous banter – satirizing Rolf’s German accent, imitating the gruff mannerisms of Mrs. Hirao, lauding the sexiness of the Australian bar girls. His obvious intent is to distract me from my suffering, and I am glad to play along.

  At last we move beyond the downtown area, the car empties out again, and the Bob West Comedy Hour shuts down. I’d been tempted to chide Bob for taking my sweater, but had said nothing. Now I’ve gotten a wonderful pay off, about which – in the emotionally constipated manner of guys – nothing will be said, either.

  We catch our plane to Taipei. Bob seems rather morose, so I try to cheer him up.

  “This is a great opportunity to see authentic Chinese culture,” I say. “The Communists have wiped out many traditions on the mainland. They even abbreviated the written characters.”

  “Is that so?” Bob says.

  One of my PCV friends in Korea majored in East Asian studies and was excited by the prospect of getting Chinese language radio broadcasts from the mainland. But when she tuned in the station, all she got was a non-stop propaganda harangue:

  “Chairman Mao says: blah blah blah!” The announcer cried. “Chairman Mao says: blah blah blah!”

  The announcer’s tone was strident, frantic, as if he feared that somebody would put a bullet through the back of his skull if he didn’t quote Chairman Mao correctly.

  Bob turns quizzical. “How come there are so many countries we can’t visit, Cuba for instance? I’d like to see Cuba.”

  “Beats me,” I say, “Maybe it’s because the U.S. is so powerful that we think we need a lot of enemies – kind of a status symbol.”

  “Yeah, but Cuba, what kind of enemy is that?” Bob says.

  “Castro stepped on our toes, and we have to keep making him pay for it,” I say.

  “Yeah, but how much longer – ten, twenty years? Imagine, 2001 rolls around and you still can’t visit Cuba.”

  I laugh. “Not even our government would be that dumb!”

  From the DAS ROAD diary, by Bob West

  Taipei sure is a change from Tokyo, and hot, too. We only stayed long enough to see the National Palace Museum and wander the streets a little. Tyler bought several books at the Caves book store. Chinese philosophy, mostly, and something about Taiwanese folk religions.

  Alishan

  Next day, we headed south to the mountain resort of Alishan. The bus driver had a little red packet hanging from the rear view mirror. I’d noticed one earlier in a taxi as well. Tyler said the packets contained ashes.

  “What!” I said. “You mean from cremated people?”

  “No, no,” Tyler said. “Incense ashes from temples. It’s supposed to bring good luck to the journey.”

  “We could have used some on the trip from Pusan,” I said.

  This seemed like a harmless custom, but it still made me feel kind of weird. [addendum] A lot of things about this trip are making me feel weird.

  For the last leg, we boarded a narrow-gauge train. The rusty old steam locomotive looked like it couldn’t even pull out of the station. It took us into the high mountains, though.

  The climate began to change. We’d started in a jumble of tropical-type vegetation, including giant poinsettia bushes. As we chugged uphill, the bushes became smaller, then disappeared along with the other odd-looking plants. By the time we reached the top, evergreen trees grew straight as telephone poles.

  “Fantastic!” Tyler said.

  “Sure beats walking,” I said.

  A solid mass of clouds spread below us with mountain peaks jutting up here and there. We checked into the excellent hotel – the best place I’ve stayed in over two years! Tyler headed back outside with his camera, but I stayed in to enjoy a marathon shower.

  At dinner we met a young unmarried couple. Talk about a great place to bring a girl! I wish I had one here to keep me company while Tyler goes out wandering in the mist. She was a white American and the guy was Chinese. Lots of white guys tied up with Asian girls, but the reverse situation is pretty unusual.

  Unfortunately, they were one of those super dull couples, always gazing into each others’ eyes and holding hands. They’d have little spats, then kiss and make up. You could hardly talk to the girl. If you asked her a question, she’d look over at her boy friend and he’d answer for her.

  “God, what boring dinner conversation,” Tyler said afterwards.

  The wind kicked up in the night, like thunder roaring through the trees. Tyler headed outside again. He knew better than to ask me along.

  The Edge of Weirdness

  The next day, we rode a bus along the west coast. Spectacular scenery with hills reaching down to the empty coastline, jagged rock chimneys in the water.

  We arrived at some sort of research station at the southern tip of the island. We wandered about the grounds a while, usually on the paved walkways, but sometimes shuffling through the high grass. Inside the station, a poster showed colorful snakes and lizards.

  “What’re these?” I asked.

  “Poisonous reptiles,” an off
icial explained. “Last year a visitor was bitten in the grass out front and died.”

  “Oh, really?” Tyler said.

  He was trying to act casual, but he’d turned a shade paler. Should have read that guidebook a little closer, pal! Well, it was too late to be scared, and Tyler obviously felt stupid. So I didn’t say anything nasty.

  We went for a long, rambling walk to the Edge of Weirdness. I usually avoided such excursions, but what was the alternative, stay behind and look at the snake poster?

  The wind got worse until it was almost pushing us along. The rolling landscape was treeless, and heavy clouds whipped by overhead. The crumbled white walls of a ruined building sat on top a low hill. Tyler wanted to check it out, but I refused since we’d have to walk over open ground to get there, and that meant snakes. To my surprise, Tyler didn’t argue.

  We continued on to a cemetery. The atmosphere inside was other-worldly. You could almost feel ghostly presences wandering among the tombstones with their red Chinese characters. We became separated for a while, and I got pretty spooked. Not another living soul was around.

  We approached a strange, blocky mausoleum type building with high pink columns and a tiled roof. We stood for a while in the protection of the porch and observed the wind howling through the little pine trees and over the cement grave mounds.

  I was creeped out, but Tyler looked full of energy and excitement. I half expected him to spread his arms and fly like a kite in that awful breeze.

  “You know, Bob,” he said, “in the Taiwanese folk religion, just about anything can be worshipped – evil spirits, trees, corpses floating in rivers – maybe even the wind.”

  “Thanks, Tyler, I really needed to hear that.”

  He began snapping pictures. I turned away as I didn’t want any evidence that I’d ever been to this Zombie Land place.

  A gruesome sight confronted us as we left the cemetery. A dead cat hung from the gate, a cord around its neck. The snarling look on its face showed that it had died in great agony.

  “My God!” I said. “Was this here when we came in?”

  Written on the gate, beside the dead cat, was the same inscription I’d seen on the ferry and on Mount Fuji.

  Tyler turned ashen. “Let’s get out of here!”

  He practically ran back. I fell farther behind until I could scarcely see him.

  “Who the hell did that?” I yelled into the wind, but I got no answer.

  Again, I suspected Tyler. We’d been separated a while, after all. But that cat – was Tyler capable of doing such a horrible thing? I didn’t want to even think about it. Something terrible was happening way beyond my ability to understand.

  Penghu

  The next day we went to Kao-hsiung and caught a boat for Penghu, the main Pescadore Island. The weather had turned heavy and overcast, like a scene from a Dracula movie. I was shuffling along on autopilot by now, praying that nothing else bizarre would happen.

  We wandered a stony beach then visited a strange folk cult temple. The altar had dark, ghastly looking statues of gods dressed in glittery clothes. They were horrible enough to scare anyone into being a believer. Tyler loved the place.

  I’ve got to get out of here. I’m thinking that it’s time to split off and continue back to the States alone.

  This whole trip is starting to go off the deep end.

  21: Fringe of China – Hong Kong / Macau

  “Then why are you so apprehensive?” – Bruce Lee, speaking in Enter the Dragon

  From the DAS ROAD diary, by Bob West

  This is more like it! The British might be in charge here, but Hong Kong has my kind of Chinese culture.

  I wish we had enough money to stay at a nice hotel. As it is, we have to make do with our usual flop house style lodging at a hostel in Kowloon.

  The flight from Taipei was very tense, Tyler and I sat with an aisle between us, both suspicious of the other. Now and then we’d look across at each other, but not say anything. Paranoia rode along with us all the way.

  I thought of splitting up at the Hong Kong airport, but decided against it, just barely. I have this weird feeling that Tyler needs me, somehow. Who knows why? Maybe I need him, too. All I know is that this trip is turning into more than I bargained for.

  Late afternoon we took the Star Ferry to Hong Kong island. I was so excited that I stood up too soon at the end of the ride. The boat banged against the dock. I would have fallen and cracked my skull if Tyler hadn’t caught me. I started to feel better about having him around.

  We rode the Victoria Peak tram to the island high point. Tyler went nuts taking pictures. There are really three of us on this trip – me, Tyler, and “Jewel Eye” as he calls the camera. Like a kid naming a stuffed toy.

  Then down into the crowded streets and an excellent dinner. The awful memories of Taiwan started to fade. Who has time for them? No spooky memory ever bought me a beer.

  I was still a bit leery of Tyler, though. He seemed okay, but there was no telling when something else weird might happen. Well, I’ve got my passport and my own bankroll ... we’ll see.

  “Let’s go to a Chinese opera,” Tyler suggested.

  Well, why not? It was quite a performance with crashing music and acrobats jumping around. The female singers hit incredible high notes.

  “They sound like cats!” Tyler said.

  Yes, cats ... like that strangled one hanging from the gate. Thanks for reminding me.

  But I was too exhausted to appreciate the show. Earlier today I’d escaped from Taiwan. Then the hectic plane ride, etc. I dozed off despite the opera racket.

  Then back across Victoria Harbor to Kowloon. Fabulous lit up skyline. We stopped at a girlie bar for a drink. A couple of shady characters followed us as we left, but they dropped away. Either we seemed too formidable for them, or they realized we were going to the flop house and wouldn’t be worth sticking up.

  A whirlwind of sightseeing the next day. A sidewalk fortune teller promised me happiness and long life. Tyler refused to get his fortune told, said it was “against my religion,” whatever that’s supposed to mean. Then a sampan tour of Aberdeen harbor.

  “This is like Enter the Dragon!” I said. “Remember the scene where Bruce Lee gets rowed out to the junk?”

  “Right,” Tyler said. “So, what’s Bruce Lee got that we don’t?”

  “A body, for starters,” I said.

  We ate at a floating restaurant, and Tyler got into one of his strange moods – just as I was feeling pretty good from a couple glasses of plum wine.

  “Do you think it’s possible for two people to be on the same wave length and not even know it?” he asked.

  “My old girl friend told me to get off her wave length, once,” I said.

  Tyler frowned. Hey, I didn’t think it was such a bad joke!

  “What do you know about Jon Glass?” he asked a few minutes later.

  “What made you think of him?” I indicated the crowd. “Do you think he looks Chinese or something?”

  “What does he look like?” Tyler asked.

  The discussion was idiotic, and I wanted to blow things off with another joke. Tyler looked very urgent, though.

  “I’m not exactly sure,” I said. “I hardly knew the guy.”

  With all the sensory overload of these past weeks, how was I supposed to recall some minor acquaintance from Korea? Tyler was waiting for me to continue, though.

  “I don’t remember actually talking with him ever,” I said. “He wasn’t the type of guy you felt comfortable around. He was kind of ...”

  “Kind of what?”

  “Spooky,” I said.

  I expected a sarcastic response, but Tyler only nodded.

  We cruised Nathan Road back in Kowloon. Tyler stopped at a book store and loaded up with Red Chinese literature. How’s this for a reading list?

  Quotations from Chairman Mao, a.k.a. The Little Red Book

  10th National Congress of the Communist Party of Chi
na, documents

  And best of all:

  Little Ching and Hu Tzu Guard the Cornfield

  I scanned the children’s picture book. Auntie Chang’s geese had escaped from their coop and eaten the new corn plants. The kids stop them and educate Auntie Chang about the importance of protecting collective property. The last page shows them all standing together, smiling.

  Little Ching holds up a copy of the Little Red Book in her hand and says: “Chairman Mao asks us to store grain, so we should protect the fields and grow more.”

  “That’s a boring story,” I said. “Don’t the Communists just shoot anybody who causes problems? Put Auntie Chang against a wall and let her have it?”

  “Yeah, it is pretty dull,” Tyler agreed. “Nice pictures, though.”

  “You’re not going off the deep end with this stuff?” I asked, only half joking.

  “It’s just historical record,” Tyler said. “Someday, people will know what nonsense all this was, including the b.s. from our side.”

  I nodded. I was getting uneasy with the direction the conversation was going.

  “Remember the Domino Theory?” Tyler asked. “If we pulled out of Vietnam, all the neighboring countries would fall over and we’d be fighting the Commies in Los Angeles.”

  “What a load of crap that was,” I agreed.

  “Or the ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ concept,” Tyler said. “Like there was this wonderful victory just ahead if we only kept fighting. Who dreamed that up?”

  “I think the guy was actually seeing the bullet train coming straight at us,” I said.

  Tyler was starting to get very heated, so I pretended to notice something fascinating in a shop window. I knew that his brother had served in Vietnam and that Tyler felt a lot of anger about that.

  Macau

  We took the hydrofoil to Macau and wandered around the streets with their old Portuguese buildings. An English girl joined us for a while. She was cute, and I really dug her accent. I felt uneasy, though. Before long, Tyler and I would start competing for her and cause ourselves problems.

  Who was I trying to kid? Tyler is far more successful with women than I could ever be. I’m the respectful, nice guy that women are supposedly looking for but always pass over for the sexier dude who treats them like crap.