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 |   ON THE WRITE PATH: travel journal for Around-the-World in 2015, 16, 18. |
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For there are many paths.  A tlog. A travel blog. A keeping-track of my trials, er.. travels. February 26, 2015 until ... June 18,2015. January 12, 2016 until February 15, 2016. November 13 to 30 2018 ... 2019, 2020: Taiwain. I went nowhere in 2021. 2022: Portugal, Thailand. Will include: Hawai'i, Japan, Australia, South Africa, Untied Arab Emirates, Portugal, Norway, Ireland and... (2015) ... Norway and Estonia (2016), México (2018), Taiwan, Balkans, Baltics, Turkey, Costa Rica, Nicaragua. Vi får se.  "Where I have traveled, stayed and visited. Over 181 places."     |
| In Hualien Cold, clouds, chilled bones. Damp marble gleams white and black; red lanterns flutter above. I walk to the bank through a myriad swarm: a vroom of scooters, the fragrance of unknown foods, the assault of every color, the soft cold touch of drizzle. I get to know streets by placing one foot before another, careful at curbs that slick sloping marble doesn't slip beneath me and tumble me onto a street. I meet Taiwan on the corner of friendly gestures and uncooked, unknown, indescribable meat. I greet each day with a smile. In Taiwan, frowns are unacceptable. © Kåre Enga [12.February.2017] Written in Hualien, Taiwan and sent on a postcard to Denise and Charlotte. 1508 |
| Woo What swam in the sea before it jumped into this bowl, this dry lake, to sit upon a gingered bed of greens, an egg hiding beneath, a piece of sausage, tofu. Surfeited, I check this mirror to make sure black sesame isn't stuck between my teeth. © Kåre Enga [Around 10-12.February.2017, probably in Hualien, if not Tianan; a fragment of thought] |
| Under the Bo-tree The bo-tree rises solid from the dusk, looms over the plaque I read (red) but cannot read (reed), spreads over this path as lamps catch fire to light the ways. I stay, listen to a city rumble behind my back, listen to chatter that passes by—but does not speak to me. © Kåre Enga [7.February.2017] Written in Tainan at Tainan Park. Sent on a postcard to Lisa French Taylor. |
| Night heron The night heron hunts a lit lawn for the unwary, stalks the shadows. Night falls over Taipei, this city, this park, as hunters move along stone paths, seek out the dark, wait for others... all in a dance of gestures or a glance. One glance says much, a quiet spot knows more— and speaks not—of what is proffered, accepted, shared. Now bats are out and an oo-oo-oo remind us— the night heron still stalks about. © Kåre Enga [15.February.2017] Wrote this in Taipei for Hobie Hare thinking about 228 Peace Park at night. |
| white flit of flutter-by the Smiling Buddha never frowns at the pond-fish, moto-music, the chime of the garbage truck my insolence sitting here on a stone rock trying to believe all is right with my world when it's not blue-sky warmth of late-winter the hasty plum blooms red or white here the Golden Smile never fades sun, moonshine or rain transcendent beyond all worry © Kåre Enga [3.february.2017; Taichung] |
| Sentinels What wisdom etched these tablets, what burdens lay upon the backs of nine stone turtles lined up before the old Qing tower, it's Dutch foundations. Mute and still, they look up to empty sky, blind to fish swimming in the pool below them. What words are reflected in that pool, until disturbed by ripples. Children watch the finned movement of white, gold and black. Parents watch the children. Nine turtles watch the passing of their generations. Who reads these inscriptions now? Who bothers? © Kåre Enga Sent to Sonali Bhatia of Bangalore, India, on 15 February 2017. Edited 7.March.2017. Link to photo I took: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1403699852997968&set=a.1428336663867620.... |
| Taiwan... 1. I mostly like it. 2. People are very friendly. 3. Young men are especially friendly to me. I think it's either because A. I'm old, B. I'm a foreigner therefore exotic, C. Speak English and they want to practice or 4. Homosociality (like a bromance) is the norm here. 4. Some are Very LOUD! 5. This is NOT Japan (although it was for 50 years 1895-1945) so it's 'dirty' compared to Tokyo. More like Costa Rica. 6. People don't aim at pedestrians, but it's disconcerting how scooters weave around a person. 7. Sidewalks? Depends. Walking in traffic is the norm. Pedestrians have the right of way. 8. Black is definitely 'in'. Especially for students and businessmen. A Goth's paradise. 9. I rarely know exactly what I'm eating. Today mackerel soup. Very good, especially since I'm not as fond of mackerel as other fish. 10. Taichung has an Asia Town: Indonesian, Vietnamese, Thai, Philippino.. 11. I really like Taipei. 12. Breakfast makes a huge difference in costs. Great one in Taipei. So-so in Taichung. Spare in Chiayi. None in Tainan... not even coffee. It will show in my booking.com ratings and remarks. 13. New Year and the Lantern Festivals are a good time to visit. Cooler, dryer weather and fewer tourists. 14. Lodging more expensive than I'm used to. (about $20/night) Food is cheap. Train can be cheap. 15. I've been walking everywhere. Taiwanese rent scooters. 16. Night market in Chiayi was great. Most places have one or more. 17. Smog. 18. Taiwanese seem to be tolerant of many things that Americans, Germans or Japanese would find unacceptable. 19. Wish I knew basic Chinese. People here are kind though. I should add to my lists.  1,374 |
| Patacones I watch Bryan shop. Pick up a vegetable, set it down; pick up a fruit; reject that too. He sees cooking bananas, decides on patacones for tonight. Buy the plátano. Firm, green but mature. Take it home. Find a pan; find some oil. Light the stove. Peel the outer skin of the looks-like-a-banana revealing pale yellow flesh. Remove any blemishes. Cut into slices one inch thick. Place them in the hot oil. Watch them turn a deeper yellow until they have softened. I watch his curly hair, look into green eyes intent on his task. Observe his fast movements. He knows what he is doing, having done this many times before. He says I should help, finds a plastic bag, finds another pan. He sets one yellow cube on the plastic, folds the plastic over, shows me how to smoosh the patacones with the pan. I press them one at a time. Then place them on a towel to wait. He works quickly. Deft hands and sharp eyes. Focused on making dinner. I focus on my humble task, small help. Now thinner medallions of gold are placed back into the oil. Cooked but not allowed to brown too much. Again they are placed on a towel to rid them of excess oil, then arranged on a plate. He grabs the tube of red bean paste. Puts a dab on each patacón. He doesn't have the ingredients to mix the paste with garlic, onion, a bit of pepper for color. I serve them as-is to the others. They wonder what they are and I explain. Bryan smiles having achieved his goal. Hot fresh patacones. A warm gift for all. © Kåre Enga [17.enero.2017] |
| I did the numbers. January 12, 2016 - January 12,2017: Half year here; half year on the road. I'm visiting Costa Rica next. Be there on December 12th. I've made my lists and checked them twice. I've made piles. This Saturday or Sunday morning, I'll pack. I'll say goodbye to grey skies and chill, hello to 75º weather and more sunshine. We shall see how this goes. 921 |
| Memento Rain streaks on cooling stone; puddles gather between legs of fallen comrades, their hope and pain mixed on faces frozen in time. Do not forget those who have come to this graveyard. Forgiveness will come when flowers fill the cracks of time and rain wipes away all memory except what scant humanity remains, etched in stone, raised in stone, fallen but still defiant under cold grey skies. © Kåre Enga [15.november.2016. Budapest (Buda Memento Park)] |
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