Shake, Rattle, and Roll

TAIPEI, PART II

Scene: Windowless box of a room, lit by silvery glow of light through glass. A little before 8:00 am, I am sitting, propped against pillows, studying maps for today’s excursions. John is up early so we can make it to breakfast before hitting the pavement. Puttering around the room, he steps into the glass-box of a bathroom.

The bed gave a slight bounce and jiggled. My first thought was a heavy truck was passing by, then quickly brushed it aside because we are on the third floor. My second thought was what was John doing? Jumping off the edge of the tub? Because pod-bathrooms are notorious for somewhat flexible floors. I called out his name, to ask what he was doing. Instead of a question, though, what came out of my mouth was, “Johnny, I think we are having an earthquake.”

In the brief time it had taken to formulate the initial question, the bed was no longer the only thing moving. The security chain on the door began to slap harshly against the locked door, which was doing its best to open, although limited to rocking within the door frame. The glass door to the bathroom began swinging as best it could against the latch. The windowless box of a room began to sway, all while the bed was bouncing, and a low rumbling sound filled the air.

In that funny way your mind zips through the card-catalogue in your brain, I looked about the room for places to take cover. Sturdy door frames, I thought, looking at the definitely not-sturdy door frame to the room or bathroom. Heavy piece of furniture, I remembered, noting the bed was a platform bed, with no way to crawl under. The drawers in the room were attached to the walls, which were swaying in an almost circular fashion. The closet was too narrow, with room for about four hangers. As I looked at the shelf that ran along one wall to create a desk, I wondered if it was deep or sturdy enough to provide any cover.

John yelled for me to come into the bathroom. I ran in and found him climbing into the bathtub in the shower. Even though my mind was telling me this was what you do in a tornado when you don’t have a basement, I hopped into the tub and hunkered down.

The crunching sound of the door chain eventually became a swishing sound as the doors stopped trying to open and the walls slowly stopped swaying. My body could feel the stillness, but my head still felt the motion.

From the moment I felt the bed bounce to the point the door chain stopped moving, just over a minute of time elapsed.

We climbed out of the tub, laughing a little at how our years of living in Tornado Alley had us taking cover in what was possibly the worst place during an earthquake. If you know me, you’ll know the first thing I did is pull out my phone and start to search “Taipei earthquake”.

It actually took a minute or two before anything began popping up, but soon it became the predominant topic in the news. I located Taiwan’s main earthquake website, which gave fairly detailed information regarding not only the magnitude and location of the epicenter, it gave intensity measurements for locations all over the island. The data displayed was a few minutes behind real time, but it was fascinating to have the information at hand as we experienced at least twenty pretty good aftershocks in the first hour or so following the initial quake. It was here I discovered that there had been a smaller earthquake preceding the big one, a little over 3 in magnitude, around 3:30 in the morning.

Once the aftershocks seemed to be over, we ventured forth from our room to see how the rest of the hotel fared and if breakfast was still open. The hallway seemed quiet, and the elevator was still working, so we stepped in when the doors opened. The man already in the elevator inquired if we enjoyed the earthquake. I told him it wasn’t my first, but certainly the strongest, and he almost seemed disappointed that I hadn’t been scared. John piped up that it was his first (completely forgetting the one in Virginia that had our house shaking while he was working from home), so our elevator companion seemed mollified.

In the basement breakfast room, everything was business as usual, with people filling their plates, kids playing with the cereal dispensers, and kitchen staff refilling food stations. It was a little like a Twilight Zone episode, and if the man on the elevator hadn’t asked about the earthquake, I would have thought no one else in the hotel had been affected.

For the most part, Taipei sustained little or no damage. Several parts of Taipei lost power, an older hotel nearer the river lost some tiles and decoration from the front of the hotel, and the MRT halted service and evacuated as a precaution, but was up and running a few minutes later. And so life went on.

Side note: Taiwan’s strongest earthquake in 25 years, the April 3rd quake killed at least thirteen people. Taiwan has come a long way since the 7.7 magnitude earthquake hit the middle of the island in 1999 that left more than 2,400 people dead and over 10,000 injured. New building standards were introduced, and existing buildings reinforced. Sensors have been installed throughout the country that have the potential to provide warnings seconds before the shaking begins so people have time to take cover.

**Edited to Add: As of April 9, over 785 aftershocks have been recorded in the region.

After breakfast, we took the MRT to Dadaocheng. Exiting the station, we walked north, heading for the Old Town. As Tacheng Street morphed into Dihua Street, so too did the shiny city morph into a bygone era. Glass buildings gave way to more compact and crowded buildings. Smaller streets of vendors and interesting shops were filled with people, scents, and sounds. Once the main commercial district, Dadaocheng is still an important area for Chinese medicinal herbs and fabrics, as was evidenced by the many herbal pharmacies and textile shops interspersed with bakeries and souvenir shops.

Always on the lookout for musical instruments of any kind, we stumbled across a little shop with singing bowls and a multitude of small hand percussion instruments. The delightful young man who assisted us gave us an explanation of the use of singing bowls and not only proceeded to demonstrate how different weights and sizes allowed the production of a variety of tones and overtones, he allowed us to try for ourselves. Similar to using your finger to make a wineglass sing, you use a covered mallet to produce the tones using friction and speed.

We made our purchase (yes, a singing bowl is coming home with us) and left it at the store to be picked up before we left the area. John, the young man who assisted us, promised to pack it as though for shipping, so we could carry it safely with us while we traveled.

Up the street we went, passing bakeries and tea shops and more before finding ourselves at the Yong Le Market. Stepping into the ground floor of the market is a bit like walking into the Reading Market in Philadelphia. It’s an absolute maze of food stalls, with delicious smells (and some odd ones) assaulting the senses.

Eventually we found our way to the upper floors, where the fabric stalls could be found. Three floors of fabric awaited us, in an overwhelming display of color and pattern. Instead of fabric neatly displayed on shelves organized by fabric content and color, huge bolts of fabric stood on end, leaning ten deep against the walls. Bins with remnants, walls of buttons, and small tables with industrial-weight machines were around every corner. Truly overwhelming, I walked out of the Yong Le market without buying any fabric.

We wandered the streets of Dadaocheng a little longer, trying to keep to the shaded walkways when possible. We definitely brought the heat with us to Taipei, and after buying some sweets for John at a lovely little bakery, we decided to pick up our singing bowl and head back to the hotel to cool off.

Neither of us was excited about going back out into the heat, but we knew we’d have to get something to eat. I had just about decided to make do with room food, when John said Din Tai Fung only had a twenty minute wait. I hadn’t planned on two meals there, as I usually only splurge on dumplings once in a blue moon, but, well, it’s Din Tai Fung. So off we went for another round. Only pork xiaolongbao for me this time, with some black sesame buns for a sweet-ish ending.

We ate dinner so early, we still had plenty of time to visit the botanical gardens before they closed. Our central location meant a short walk to the station, a short ride on the MRT, and a short walk to the botanical gardens.

It was very pleasant to walk the gardens at dusk after walking Dadaocheng in the heat of the day. It wasn’t crowded, but plenty of people wandered the park, some to visit, some to pass through on their way home. We took our time walking the perimeter, enjoying the hardscape as much as the landscape.

We exited the park close to closing time and walked back to the station. Even though it was getting dark, we decided to exit the station at the transfer point so we could see the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial and the surrounding grounds.

Much like the National Mall in Washington, DC, with the Lincoln Memorial at one end and the Capitol at the other, the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial stands at one end of the sweeping grounds and gardens with the Liberty Square Arch at the other end. The National Theater and the National Concert Hall flank the arch along either side of Liberty Square, similar to the way the Smithsonian Museums run on either side of the National Mall.

As we approached the grounds, the first thing we saw was the National Theater to our left. Walking through the gate, we found ourselves on a garden path walking along a pond with a bridge. The pathway led us through a small grove of trees before opening up to a wide expanse of pavement, with a flagpole mounted on a stone platform with steps on either side.

I climbed the platform for a better view to each end of the grounds. The theater, concert hall, and arch were brightly lit, with figures milling around on the great porches. The interior lights of the concert hall came on as clusters of people walking briskly towards the hall.

Behind me loomed the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial, sitting silently in the darkness that surrounded it. Unlike the brightly lit Liberty Square, the memorial is lit only from beneath, by lights running along the walkways and the base of the walls.

We walked to the memorial first, climbing part way up the stairs. Sitting on the steps, we watched the activity at the other end, enjoying the pleasant breeze that blew away the remnants of the heat of the day. Time to head back to the hotel to get ready for our travels, so down the length of the plaza we walked, past the halls and the arch to find our way to the station.

Next stop, Tokyo.

**Edited to add: A little research shows if you are in a high-rise building during an earthquake, one option is to take cover in a bathtub, as it may provide some protection in event of a collapse.