Alishan adventures

So yes, where was I? Oh, yeah... on a train up a mountain. Yup, I left you guys on a high, did I not ? (Both figuratively and literally.)

So, the train was pretty awesome in a juddery, slightly disconcertingly rickety kind-of-way. A combination of slippery rail-tracks and the frequent shunting, to-ing and fro-ing, and huffing and puffing made me think the train was about as fit for hill-climbing as I was. But we made it, and the top was pretty damn cool. Alishan village itself was a silvery-grey mass of clouds and torrential rain as we arrived. My trousers were soaked to through, and my shoes made lovely farting noises when I walked. I had to convince my friends that I was not the culprit, but I fear my reputation precedes me - and too much protestation doesn't exactly convince, either. I trod a fine line in pleading innocent...

I guess the rain worked in our favour in the end (Hey, who wants to go climbing in the rain?), because the first hotel we found had rooms. I'm assuming they saw me and guessed they could add a little waiguoren-tax onto the price, because the very compact and not-too-bijoux room didn't exactly scream luxury despite the cost. I'm not sure that two mattresses on a floor constitutes a 3-bed room - but in our desperation to get warm and dry we said "Yes, Yay, and thrice...Yeah-hay". And maan, was I glad to be in that room - the bare bones duvets screamed "OMG! WARMTH!", and even the teensy-weensy towels (still, big enough to cover an arse-cheek) could be forgiven.

My gloves, layers of t-shirts, wooly sweater and tracky bottoms seemed like over-kill in the summer heat of Chiayi city. A few thousand feet up, and they could barely insulate a flea on a scabby dog. So, in the absence of a heater (I mean, who has heaters in hotel rooms in sub-tropical countries, huh?) I left the gloves drying off on the equally compact n' bijoux drying rack, and we set off to explore Alishan village.

Hmmmmm. WE DIDN'T GET FAR.

We walked about 100 metres, looked up at the still-torrential rain and went "Sod this. Let's go for coffee." And - in a supremely well-placed example of the ubiquitous nature of consumerism - the ONLY cafe in town was, of course, Starbucks. I'm just astounded Maccy D's hasn't wormed its way up the mountain yet... but just watch this space.

Anyway, I have never in my life loved Starbucks more than I did that day. I forgave my blatant morally-ambiguous approach to consumerism and erased all guilt about fair-trade agreements yah yah yah.... because I was cold, hungry and tired. I wanted hot, tasty coffee and a nice sticky, gloopy cake to go with it. To be fair, I think my severe dislike of Starbucks in general is quite unwarranted. It stems from a bizarre guilt complex/irrational grudge I hold against them for crimes towards fair-trade practices they probably did commit in the past, but are rectifying now. I don't know. Or maybe it's just because I really love those family-run old-style independent coffee/tea-shops. I just KNOW that the human race will be doomed to mediocrity if, 20 years into the future, the only coffee shops around are the offspring of the big bucks multi-national guys. But hey, I'm the same girl who shops in Carrefour, or Tesco's, and buys Maccy D's... so clearly I'm not keeping to a strict ethical shopping code here...

So yeah, the over-priced coffee in Starbucks (it really really isn't THAT great, even if it is the only choice on offer) was a welcome sight. We spent a good few hours soaking in the warmth and avoiding the omnipresent rain. Then we found a couple of shops, bought some green tea, and went somewhere to eat. And NO, it wasn't in Starbucks! We found a lovely restaurant that served hotpot and various other meals. Being the fussy sort, I hate hotpot and all its what-the-hell-kinda-vegetable-is-that (?) ingredients, so I went for a rather yummy roast chicken with rosemary and a bizarre cornucopia of accompanying dishes, including COLD mashed potato (a true crime of humanity) and lukewarm corn soup. The bread was, nevertheless, divine. Soft, warm, savoury (you can't even begin to imagine how fantastic that is until you've had tuna mayo on SWEET bread - how horrid) ... it was proper farmhouse bread. Mmmmmm - it was just so perfect for a cold, blustery day.

And where, you might well ask, is the walking and such like? Y'know, the kinds of stuff you get up to in a national park in t'mountains?

Ahem... well...that was postponed. It was the rain, see. I was just too... wet. We took the executive decision to avoid it as much as possible. So, eating and drinking was pretty much all we had left to do (Alishan isn't exactly located in a big city, after all).


However, we all knew that walking was going to be the nature of the day on Sunday, so we conserved our energies and went to bed at the ridiculously early hour of... oh, shit...it was 11pm already! Every good intention of going to bed at 8pm flew out of the window, thanks to some crappy Taiwanese talent show and an equally crappy docu-drama of mass flooding in London (very appropriate me-thoughts). But, we still duly set our alarm clocks for 3.30am... and then took the executive decision to sleep right through them 'til 4am.

Well, truth be told, we all woke up at 3.30am, said "Bollocks to that..." and fell back asleep. The resulting up-side was an extra 30 minutes kip, but the downside was a walk up the mountain instead of a nice, scenic train-ride.

In an attempt to salvage the now-dwindling opportunity to see the famous sunrise of Alishan, Sabina raced up the mountain with the speed of a gazelle. As for myself, I took the approach that no sunrise, regardless of it's fabulousness, was worth a heart attack or even a stitch... and plus, my back was killing me (floors are NOT good for your back, despite what old wives tell you). I hobbled up the mountain with Kay, who had considered flip-flops to be the appropriate mountain-climbing footwear of choice. We sauntered at a semi-fast speed, and eventually dawn broke through the forest and warmed us.

Now, having seen Sabina's photographs of a most spectacular and divine sunrise from the mountain top, I have to admit I was a smite jealous... But, on the other hand, I did see a breathtaking sight, albeit maybe less photogenic. I mean, I saw the sun rise through the tree canopy and illuminate the trees from behind. And I saw light dance on the morning mist, so that photographs formed ghostly apparitions, and rays burst through the leaves... and I thought, "Well, there's always another mountain sunrise for another day."