Kelake

“Anyone who’s lived in the busier areas of Taiwan longer than five minutes will already know to trust the electric and fire safety about as far as they could throw a hippo. What surprised me is when I moved into a newly built, modern house in the mountains that I thought had been built to high standards.” (llary)
I just had to share this photo of the electrical switch box that controls the power to the 2nd and 3rd floor. It’s like something out of an old horror movie.
I have made a point to not labour on much about certain things that drive me crazy about living here in Taiwan. I think it’s more constructive to happiness and a sane mind to move beyond the frustrations. This is especially true since I have been treated with such kindness by those I have had the fortune of being friends with. But its hard to not to make a passing comment on the unsafe electrical systems in Taiwan homes and how few seem to care.
This past week the house has been without power on the third floor due to the electrical wires melting. The electrical system in the house can’t take the loads that would be considered pretty normal elsewhere in the world. Naturally the land lord was in China and no one had the authority to call someone to come and fix the problem. So I called someone myself – he came over looked things over, went out to buy some wire (what electrician doesn’t have wire?), and patched things up with duct tape. That lasted 30 minutes.
The landlady came back from China and called her electrician/plumber. He gave me the impression that electrical in this house is mainly for the lights, a tv, and a fan or 2 only. Forget all that modern appliance stuff. When I asked this guy if he was going to replace the wiring and the switch box he simply stated he didn’t have time. Weird – why not stick around and do some good work instead bouncing around Hsinchu nickel and dimeing his time. There is power but for how long is unknown. There isn’t even a way to protect things against spikes in power as nothing is grounded. There are standards here for such things but as one follows these rules, despite the fact that they are for your own safety.
The quality of construction in so many things here is laughable. Nothing that is made and sold here works. It’s easy to say a blanket statement like that because it is almost entirely true. There is no concept of quality and “doing the job right”. My uncle who was a cabinet maker would labour over his work not to get it good enough but to make it the best he possibly could. Often his cabinets were works of beauty. You don’t see that here very often.
Thats the short form of my story. There are a few more people telling there experiences at Forumosa.

Hsinchu may have per capita more coffee/tea shops than most Canadian and American cities but generally they are missing one of the most important features of such establishments – WiFi (and good coffee). That is until I learned that a new neighbourhood shop the Burano, and a farther afield spot called Havana Coffee Shop, appear to have this most necessary of “sticky” services.
I’ve noticed the Havana Coffee Shop a number of times in my travels around the neighbourhood adjacent to FE’21. It’s pretty hard to miss it; it’s painted blue which makes it a rarity among the gray and orange elsewhere. So since I was out in the area yesterday I though I would drop in, say hello, check it out, and ask if they have WiFi. The staff seemed grateful for the English lesson – translating wireless internet – and told me that though the shop doesn’t have it the shop above does and it leaks down to the 1st floor. Cheeky.
The Burano has the look of a shop that will only be around for 6 months to a year. Thats not to say that it sucks but just that the market is so saturated that competition is rather fierce. Restaurants and coffee shops are the most common business idea here it seems and they come and go with the wind. I hope they stick around as the fruit is ok and well they have WiFi.
Despite living here for over 7 years I still don’t know the side street names but you can’t miss the Havana. It’s on a unpopulated sidestreet opposite the side entrance to Fe’21. The Burano is on the canal around, close to Windance, across from that overpriced Teriyaki restaurant, and within throwing distance of the corner park.
More detailed pictures here.

This poor fish was my dinner recently at one of my favourite restaurants in Hsinchu called simply 1,2,3. It’s a Hsinchu institution, having been in the same location for perhaps 20 years or more (as I have been told). I count about 3 generations working there. It serves standard local food – nothing too special and is perhaps comparable to your favourite “greasy spoon” in most cities and towns everywhere. It’s a pretty popular spot for foreigners including a large number of beer drinking chain smoking Japanese. The menu is on the wall except for us linguistically challenged where they produce an English menu – luckily a couple of the girls there speak English and I believe Japanese. I usually call ahead and order the steamed fish (pictured) but otherwise I usually stick to the same food you find everywhere – Kung Pao Chicken, Garlic Pork, Shrimp Balls, and Green Vegetables.
No visit or stay is complete without sampling the menu at this restaurant. It’s quite close to the Sol Hotel and is located on what is sometimes called the “Canal Around” which traverses the area between Lin-Sen Rd and Chung-Yang Rd.
There are a few more pictures on Flickr.

Last week this was one morning’s early entertainment. Prior to hearing my alarm which was set for 6am I was awoken to the sweet serenade of 3 marching bands and assorted other local drums and noise makers. When I die I want a marching band and parade to announce my passing. A New Orleans style would be more to my liking though. Taiwanese death rites regularly feature processions of elaborate floats displaying folklore figures in vividly colorful costumes, bands of drummers and trumpet players and even strippers and scantily clad singing women. But why before 6 am?
A few more pictures on this flickr stream.

Yes that is my hairy leg with a bandage on it. Young children and total strangers like to pull on the hair whenever they get the chance. I’m not sure but apparently Chinese men tend to have less hair than we barbarians so it’s a strange kind of novelty (I tend to look more at the ladies legs than the guys). This was confirmed by the giggles of the nurse who applied this bandage but 4 hours ago.
I’m having a bad run of late. Yesterday afternoon a lady does the usual “cut in front of me at the last minute maneuver” so prevalent here. A spilt second earlier and she likely would have been flat on her back – I’m big. It’s a rude maneuver but I’m used to it.
Last night it was a taxi driver who tried to cut my knees off by performing the same move with his car. He later slowed down, smiled, and said sorry. Ok my friend no problem I said while grinding my teeth.
Today it was a young dude talking on his cellphone. He was smart to pull over asap so he could talk to his mummy on the phone but not so smart to realize that I was driving my scooter behind him. His prudence caused me to have to stop quickly narrowly escaping a serious pile up. Scooters are very difficult to control in a skid and this is the second injury I have suffered from basically the same maneuver. I was pissed and had to give the young man the benefit of my dirty Chinese language. How do you reprimand a young man smiling like he didn’t know a world existed outside his head? Luckily he wasn’t someone high on betel nut with a lead pipe under his seat or I might be writing this from heaven (or some might say hell).