The clouds burst around mid-morning and raindrops plummetted down as though from the barrel of a gun. In a climate like Taiwan’s it would be foolish to let that get in the way of an outing so we strolled down to Gongguan for an Israeli lunch at a small restaurant where there was one table full of American students. They were far quieter than your average collection of Westerners in Taiwan, who normally take up far more space and air than anyone around them, even though they were all very large. I don’t quite know what it is, it’s not just size or volume that causes Westerners, especially North Americans and Australians, to take up space – maybe they stand in a particular way and stand further apart than Asians, certainly East Asians. It’s very noticeable while I’m here, though of course I almost certainly take up a great deal of space too, despite thinking of myself as small and quiet.
Next we went to Fluegel for a cup of overpriced French tea and their excellent cakes, the best in Taipei. One of these was superb: a mille crepe cake that was quite the best I’ve ever had. It was really only a few pancakes, very fresh and well made, sandwiching layers of cream and fruit: at the bottom kiwi, then banana, then orange and finally pineapple. Quite delicious. The cream might have been lightly flavoured as well, it had a slight scent of stewed pear, and the orange especially was inspired. It reminded me of something my mother used to make for Ramazan, when it fell in right season: fresh cream with segmented oranges and sliced bananas, left to sit till the juices flavoured the cream.
Following this excellent break, we went on to the Museum of Drinking Water, set up by the water board. We didn’t really know what to expect, having only seen it on the map, and then glimpsed a billboard at an MRT station advertising it as a place to take wedding photos.
It turned out to be an oldish industrial building with beautifully maintained mechanisms, pristime and painted gleaming black and, yes, many people getting photographed despite the rain. There was a bride to begin with, but also a whole series of women in bikinis, each attended by a little flock of photographers. There seemed to be a set route of sorts, from the machine room to outside in front of a fountain, etc.
The museum is set in fairly extensive grounds, with a great deal of water-themed artwork, such as fences made of chains hanging between bright red hydrants, or immense drainpipes painted blue. Behind all this were paths leading through woods up a hill. There were many birds and many mangificent snails, several inches long, and with wide skirts. Unfortunately I stepped on one – somehow accidentally killing on that size makes one feel far guiltier than a smaller creature, and certainly the feel of it underfoot was terrible, though worse for the snail.
The path led up to the reservoir which was a bare grassy hilltop, a little strange and magical as are all such reservoirs, I think. My grandfather was a water dowser, and I have seen ihm dowse for places to dig wells – something I would have perhaps scoffed at had it not been him who did it. Maybe there is a sense we have that we don’t recognise, for the rushing of water beneath our feet.
From the museum it was an easy hop to the riverside, and we walked back along that lovely bit of Taipei under grey rainy skies. A lovely afternoon.