7/24/2012

Hualien Fruit Harvest

The people doing the harvest on this Hualien (花蓮) street (below) told me it was breadfruit, but it looks more like durian. Well, maybe it's overripe breadfruit -- I'm no expert, but breadfruit seems to be smaller if not harder. It's not this juicy. 

I googled breadfruit and got the following at wiki: "Ancestors of the Polynesians found the [breadfruit] trees growing in the northwest New Guinea area 3,500 years ago. They gave up the rice cultivation they brought with them from Taiwan and raised breadfruit wherever they went in the Pacific (except Easter and New Zealand, which were too cold)."

If this is correct, breadfruit was then, ironically, introduced to Taiwan by the Dutch after they got it off the ancestors of the Taiwanese. I don't think there were any breadfruit in Taiwan before the Dutch. Here's Reverend George Canadidius' (the pioneer missionary) description of Taiwan's agriculture from 1624: "Three kinds of fruit are cultivated -- of which the first is called ptingh, the second quach, and the third taraun, which is very much like our millet -- besides two kinds of vegetable somewhat resembling our Dutch beans, with three kinds of bulb which they use instead of bread, so that if bread, rice, or other fruits were wanting, they could subsist entirely on these bulbs. The island also produces ginger, sugar-cane and melons [I don't think breadfruit counts as a melon though], but the people plant just sufficient for their wants. Bananas, cocoa-nuts and pinang are found in great abundance, with some other kinds of fruit which are not of great importance, and the names of which I am unable to pronounce in our language. This is all that their fields and gardens produce for sustaining their bodies."

In later reports, the Dutch also later claimed they introduced breadfruit, along with other crops, to Taiwan. The word for breadfruit in Dutch is breadfruit. Someone on a previous post told me that the Aboriginal word for breadfruit is bat-chit-l'ut 八支律 , which sounds like a transliteration for breadfruit. If the aboriginal people had breadfruit prior to 1624, they most certainly would have had their own name for it. Who knows? Maybe this is the word an aboriginal tribe unfamiliar with breadfruit adopted later on. But it seems unlikely, especially if we consider Taiwan's small size or trade, that an important crop would remain undetected by certain groups.  

7/21/2012

Anvil a Taipei Hit

Anvil rocks the Huashan Culture Park (華山1914創意文化園區) in Taipei, Taiwan 


Besides Casablanca, a couple of Iranian flicks, The Thin Blue Line and Tangled, my friend Doug, an avid film-goer, hates pretty much every story ever put to film. So when he said "Patrick, you have got to see the documentary Anvil! The Story of Anvil," I knew it was going to be a good one. If Doug says a film is "worth seeing," that translates to "it's a masterpiece for the ages!"

The documentary Anvil! The Story of Anvil begins at a Quickening of heavy metal bands in Japan: "In the summer of 1984, some of the biggest rock bands in the world toured Japan. Scorpions. Whitesnake. Bon Jovi. All of these bands went on to sell millions of records. All except one... Anvil." 

Lars Ulrich (Metallica): "When Anvil first showed up on the scene, it was like fuck! This is cool. This is a statement, like literally these guys are going to turn the music world upside down."

Scott Ian (Anthrax): "Seeing them was like a challenge to us. If we can't be better than that, then we might as well just go home."

Lemmy (Motorhead): "They were a great band. Yeah, I've always liked Anvil. They've got my vote."

Slash (Guns 'n' Roses): "Anvil was one of those bands that just put on this amazing live performance. Lips, the singer, used to come out with this bondage harness on, and he used to come out with his like dildo and play his flying v. I mean he was just complete insanity and that is why it was such a huge turn-on for us kids. It was like something we had never seen before."

Tom Araya (Slayer): "They were thrash, man."

Johnny Z (manager, Metallica, Anthrax, Anvil): "There was a certain sound that came from [Metal on Metal] that has become the basic formula for any heavy metal album made today." 

You get the picture. Anvil was supposed to be big. They should have been big. The fact that all these heavyweights would have anything to do with the documentary speaks to the appreciation that exists / existed for Anvil. So, what happened? 

Slash: They should have made it a lot bigger. I don't really understand the reason why. Sometimes, life deals you a tough deck. They never really got the respect that they deserved after a while because as big as an influence as they had on everyone, everybody just sort of ripped them off, and left them for dead."

*****

The documentary cuts to Canada in the midst of winter. Anvil's lead singer Steve "Lips" Kudlow is running delivery for a catering outfit near Toronto. Normally one to look on the bright side, he tries to sell us on the company he works for as he drives his mini van through the streets of some suburban nightmare, taking us from school to school to drop off pizzas and shepherd's pie, his long locks flattened beneath a tuque and breath fogging up the windshield. Lips still dreams of making it big. He believes it will happen too. The problem is this: the world has most likely passed him and his heavy metal by. And we as viewers know it; I mean, when was the last time a heavy metal band was hitting the charts? Lips is in his fifties now. Like his peers (above), he should be enjoying the mansions, the swimming pools and the Lamborghinis in the driveway, living some sort of drunken and sloppy rock 'n' roll middle-aged life instead of breaking his back at a crappy job that can't pay much more than minimum wage. His optimism will become the theme of Anvil! The Story of Anvil. It is sincere, and it is contagious. 

For me, the story of Lips and Anvil covers new territory. In 1984, I was a teenager, but I didn't listen to heavy metal. I was into bands like The Cure, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Waterboys, The Dead Milkmen, The Smiths, The The, REM, Violent Femmes and what have you. In other words, I was shaped by a different scene and, unlike other viewers and fans, do not have a nostalgic reaction to Anvil! The Story of Anvil. The documentary speaks to me simply for what the band has been going through recently. I'll give one example before moving on to Anvil's appearance in Taipei in early July.

In the middle of the documentary, the band gets a phone call from Tiziana Arrigoni, a booking agent in Europe; she's definitely Eastern European, I'm guessing Russian or Albanian. Tiziana wants to bring Anvil over for a five-week tour. After an email or two, maybe a phone call, the band drops everything and heads for the Swedish Rock Festival in Solvesborg, Sweden. "Heavy metal is a serious culture in Europe," explains Lips. "This is the stronghold. That is why it will never, ever go away. Sweden Rock Festival, here we are." The concert goes well; they meet up with the Scorpions, do promos for radio stations ("You are listening to 1020 Hard Rock Stockholm!"), etc., but we get a foreshadowing of what is about to unfold, starting with the band being stranded in the Solvesborg Train Station. "People bought tickets from that festival to get on that train, and now it's sold out," says Lips.

"This is a problem," agrees Tiziana, the booking agent who forgot to book train tickets. The fans go home. Anvil stays put.

"Until we become a real commodity, this is what you deal with," continues Lips, putting things in perspective. Next up are Lorca, Belgium and Helsinki, which go off without a hitch. Eastern Europe is a different story. Man oh man, we're talking night and day. At Zagreb, Krakow and Budepest, Anvil is now playing to a handful of people in cellar pubs. The Budapest gig, for example, can't include more than seven or eight diners occupying a couple of restaurant booths. Clearly, the band could use a bit of promotion. The downward spiral of disappointment culminates in Prague, when Anvil gets lost and shows up a couple of hours late to the gig. The venue, yet another restaurant, still puts them on stage, but the evening closes out with Lips shadowing a waiter as he serves tables, repeatedly asking to get paid. Tizania is in over her head and starting to freak. Lips is threatening to kick the manager's "fucking teeth in." After a few more gigs, the band heads back to Canada. Economically, the last five weeks have have been a write off. Is there a lesson to be learned? Here's Lips, back at the catering company: "Things went drastically wrong. But at least there was a tour for things to go wrong on . . . I'm grateful. I don't regret a minute of it."

*****

The day after watching Anvil! The Story of Anvil, I happened to read in a local paper that Anvil would be playing Taipei three days hence as part of the Canada Day festivities. Besides giving a performance, the band was scheduled to appear at a screening of the documentary. Inspired by what I have just described, I looked up Lips' email address and wrote him. I wanted to ask him a few questions and just reach out. When he replied, he said he'd put me on the guest list for the show. 

The Anvil concert, staged at Huashan Culture Park (華山1914創意文化園區) July 1 had a good turn out. I'm really bad with judging numbers of people. Having said that, I'll throw out 500-ish in terms of an audience (the venue could have been full if there had been chairs). The show itself was great. The band enjoyed playing and burned a lot of calories in their excitement. Between songs, Lips engaged the audience. He was sweet, funny and sincere.

As stated, I'm no expert on the genre, but was happy to be part of it. I did manage to get some questions to Lips. He said he'd been expecting to see me at the concert. I knew he was tired after the long flight and two long, long days, so I didn't want to pester him at the end of it all. I also had my five-year-old in tow. Finally, I emailed him again: 

Me: (obligatory Taiwan question): What did you think of Taiwan?
Lips: I thought it was an amazing place. The people were extremely friendly and a super audience. We had a great time and hope that next time we'll do some sight seeing.

Me: Did you try any Taiwanese food?
Lips: Yes we did and it was fantastic.

Me: Did you see any of the sites at all?
Lips: Only as we drove back and forth from the hotel . . . we didn't have time.

Me: You guys are rocking now, but how did you manage to stay together during the lean years?
Lips: With hope and optimism. 

Me: It's just the two of you now [original band members Robb Reiner and Steve Kudlow]. What has become of the other band members from the eighties?
Lips: They became disheartened, they lost hope and gave up. They found new lives outside music. As far as I know none have gone onto continuing music as a career.

Me: In the documentary about your band, a producer at EMI declined you because he said, "you don't fit the landscape." How do you feel about that?
Lips: I don't take it seriously. The reality that heavy metal is a timeless genre of music and never goes away or out of style.

Me: Could he have a point (#3)? Or do you have a younger audience as well?
Lips: Without a doubt our audience is from 6 years old to 80 years old. We have seen entire families show up. For the most part we are considered new as the majority had never heard us before. The largest part of our crowd is 16 to 30 which is prominently a new young audience.

I should point out that I was unfamiliar with the band prior to seeing the documentary. I took my five-year-old to the concert and she loved it. After a few minutes, she was making beast horns with her hands and rocking away. 

Me: Are you worried that your audiences are nostalgia-driven?
Lips: Anvil is one of the few original metal bands relevant today. Considering the biggest bands like Iron Maiden are the same age as well as Megadeth, Metallica and Slayer. Most members . . . if not all were born in the early 1950s. This might be true if none of us were recording but all have relevant new recording out at least every two years. Nostalgia would be if all these bands first recorded songs and only toured for that reason.

Me: How has your music evolved?
Lips: I don't believe evolved is the correct term. Bands write songs as they move through their lives. The music can be better or worse but generally remains the same in its sound. This is because it is always the same musicians writing. Writing is a natural process that you don't necessarily get better with time. Some do but most don't as they didn't have enough musical vocabulary to keep it interesting.

Me: Does it need to evolve?
Lips: I don't believe a band needs to evolve as much as come up with new exciting things derived from the same thing they have always done.

Me: Who's your favorite singer or band going right now?
Lips: I honestly don't have any favorites of things going right now.

Me: The documentary goes into talking about how Anvil influenced other bands (Metallica, Slayer, Guns 'n' Roses, etc.). What bands or singers influenced Anvil then?
Lips: Black Sabbath, Deep Purple, Thin Lizzy, Grand Funk, The Cream, Jimi Hendrix, UFO, Scorpions, Ted Nugent as well as what ever guitar oriented rock and hard rock from the 70s.

Me: Do you see yourself back in Taiwan?
Lips: We certainly hope we can return . . . We definitely want to!!

Me: What kind of impression will Taiwan leave on you?
Lips: We were left with the impression that Taiwan is a peaceful, safe and beautiful place that we want to come back to.

Me: What interested me was the position you took after coming back from Europe (in the documentary). It was a disappointment from an economic viewpoint, but you were upbeat. Why? Well, most people just grind through life; you had just come back from a five-week experience most people will never have. In my opinion, it's something to think about.
Lips: 99% of life is being there!! No tour? No tour in the movie wouldn't have made much of a movie, would have it? I would not have the experience, the memories and, believe it or NOT, fun!! The reality is we didn't turn a profit in money . . . we broke even and in the end it cost nothing but our time to do it.  The overwhelming positive aspect is that we were seen and that we got to play and travel all over Europe and at the same time got to show the entire world just how we did it. From my perspective there is not disappointment, only pure success. When other musicians are watching from their sofa they only wish they were me on the road . . . no matter what that is . . .


Fans coalesce at Huashan Culture Park (華山1914創意文化園區) for Anvil

6/28/2012

鄭州路 Zheng Zhou Road


鄭州路 Zheng Zhou Road, originally uploaded by Patrick Cowsill.
They've gone and given me my own road. In our family, we normally spell 鄭 "Cheng" though. That's how it is on our passports as well (issued by the same government that came up with the the Zheng spelling).

I'm not going to say anything to the government because it was a generous gesture and I am, needless to say, most appreciative.

6/22/2012

Yes Ma'am: A Lot of Water under the Bridge



After watching my clip of Henry V:  http://patrick-cowsill.blogspot.tw/2012/04/blog-post.html, an old, old friend said I ought to put up more favored movie clips. He said he has watched Prince Hal giving those great old lines a half a dozen times since I brought it to his attention.

So, I think I will. Why not? This blog exists, as stated previously in the mandate, for the amusement of the blog author. In my opinion, this is the best movie ever made. "Leave him alone, Miss Elsa. You're bad luck to him." 

6/20/2012

Spy Fever: The Keelung Incident

Had you visited Keelung (基隆), Taiwan in 1936, you most probably would have been subjected to making the acquaintance of one of these fellows (Japanese officials), and then bumped into them again, and again, and probably again (or at least colleagues of theirs). I got the pic from taipeimarc: http://www.taipics.com/


I have been meaning to write about the Keelung Incident (基隆事件) for a while. I'll put up some background first. I wrote this stuff before for something not related to my blog; I'll just repost it here to save some time. Then I'll bring up what went happened in Keelung in 1936:

On April 11, 1935, the captain of the Dutch tanker the Juno became the first Westerner in Taiwan in the lead up to the Second World War to be charged with espionage. After steering the ship, chartered by the Asiatic Petroleum Company, into the restricted waters off the Pescadores (澎湖), the captain was detained by Taiwan's Water Police. In his defense, he claimed his ship had been blown off course by a typhoon. He had had no choice but to set sail for the restricted ports of the Pescadores. Spurred on by a new brand of anti-foreign sentiment in Taiwan, officials roundly declared the captain of the Juno a liar and guilty, had him jailed and ultimately fined. Four days later, when a yacht called The Flying Dutchman, manned by a Russian, American and German, mosied into Keelung to get out of the rain, its crew was likewise arrested. That the American aboard was a lieutenant in the US navy did not help matters. In all, the three men spent two weeks in jail before being released with a fine of 200 yen. Both instances were unusual. In the past, the Japanese (and Taiwanese) had not usually made it a practice to detain the captains or crews of ship brought to Taiwan as a result of poor weather (in the twentieth century, that is). Now, within the space of two weeks, a precedent had been set.

The cases of the Juno and The Flying Dutchman showed how the colonial government was shifting to an increasingly protective, perhaps paranoid, stance: "For some years to come it is safe to say that any foreign vessel making unauthorized entrance into any but the four open ports of Keelung, Tamsui, Anping and Takao will find itself involved in considerable trouble," wrote the British Consul at Tamsui. Still, these were seen as diplomatic rows, based on Japan's exit or, depending on how we look at things, expulsion from the League of Nations and the world did not take them very seriously. In retrospect, we can see a hint of how Japan would conduct foreign affairs out of Taiwan. They were looking to shield secrets and put the locals on alert. As the Taiwanese followed along in the newspapers, on how their island was being besieged by foreign devils, etc., they were asking themselves: "Since when has Taiwan ever been overrun by Westerners?" Some knew the answer: twice, maybe three times in the history of the country.

An atmosphere of unease permeated Taiwanese society, a general feeling ramped up by the erratic behavior of the authorities. Average Taiwanese were trying to figure out the rules, where they could and could not go, with whom they could speak, how they might walk, what they might say, what time they needed to be in their homes and so forth so as not to provoke their increasingly sensitive rulers. According to one witness living in the Wanhua District (萬華區) of Taipei, "It was better to avoid them. You never knew what would set them off. Plus you just got fined for things you didn't know about." But fear mongering was paying dividends in making the ship as tight as a drum. Taiwanese were on the defensive: "We avoided Westerners because that was the way to stay out of trouble -- everybody did so," said the Wanhuaian. 

On June 26, 1935, the new British Consul C.H. Archer coined the expression "spy fever" for Taiwan in a confidential report back to London to explain the form of hysteria being whipped up by the colonial government. In the witch-hunt for spies, the most natural target was Westerners. "The foreign resident community of all sexes and ages, excluding Chinese, numbers less than a hundred [there were from 37,000 to 48,000 Chinese, mostly laborers, here], and the climate offers them little inducement to travel more than they must. Consequently, the sight of a foreigner in most districts remains a rarity; any individual who is eccentric enough to indulge in frequent week-end excursions is liable to excite suspicion, and no foreign resident of discretion takes an extended tour outside his usual beat without first informing the Government of his program and invoking suspicion," he wrote. 

*****


Press articles attacking foreign residents and travellers in general, and foreign consuls in particular as accredited spies, have continued during this year . . . The anti-foreign feeling sedulously fostered by eighteen months' intensive preaching on the dangers of espionage had its inevitable sequel in the Keelung Incident.  -- C.H. Arthur, January 17, 1937

Here's how the Keelung Incident (基隆事件) unfolded:

1. Three British warships pull in at Keelung in October 1936; some crew members are detained after the ships' captains refuse to pay for a tow
2. The crew members are brought into the police station in Keelung for questioning
3. An officer intercedes and is, in the words of the British Consul, insulted
4. Upon gaining the crew members' discharge, it is discovered one detainee now has a compound fracture of the jaw
5. The British Consul in Tamsui protests. A "full inquiry" is conducted. It is concluded there are no broken jaws around here
6. The visit of Sir Charles Little's, Commander-in-chief in China, visit to Taiwan is postponed
7. Another Japanese enquiry reaffirms the previous verdict; clearly, the Brits are making up this stuff about the jaw 
8. Japanese diplomats are called in to explain in London. "Very restrained publicity" occurs there  
9. In response to #8, spokesmen in Tokyo and Taipei bring "vehement counter-charges." It seems everyone on board the three ships had been drunk. The behavior of the crew, especially to go around getting their jaws broken and the like, "proved gross deficiencies in discipline"


According to the British Consul C.H. Archer, the underlying cause of the "disgraceful affair" was that naval officers had been seen taking photographs from on board the ships. Cameras really seemed to have annoyed the Japanese. Prior to reporting on the Keelung Incident, the consul touched on this aspect of their personalities or training: "The position [on foreigners] has been aggravated by the new regulations issued during the summer, prohibiting photography from the air and from "high places." It is no longer safe for the foreigner to use a camera at all, except for portraiture within the home; and any with a taste for mountain walks need to step very warily indeed."

The wrap-up for the Keelung Incident isn't clear. I suspect the British kept a stiff upper lip, got the heck out, let it go and tried to keep a distance. The Russians, annoyed by similar instances, started to pick off Japanese ships near their waters as a way of fighting back. The US pretty much, from what I can tell, ignored spy fever. People back home didn't have much use for what is going on elsewhere and you have to realize this sense of being tuned out was only heightened by the Great Depression and a policy of international isolationism.

Getting back to the prohibition on cameras: can you imagine transporting some of the more hard-core Japanese (and Taiwanese) officials seventy-five years into the future? The Internet, especially Facebook, Flickr and Google Maps, would have caused an aneurysm or two. 

6/18/2012

Wanhua Storage


Wanhua Storage, originally uploaded by Patrick Cowsill.
A Tree overgrows the back sheds of an old military complex in Wanhua 萬化的 Youth Park (青年公園), Taiwan. During the Japanese colonial era (1895-1945), the park along with neighboring Nanjichang Market (南機場), which means South Airport Market, was the site of Taipei's airport. I grabbed this shot last Friday night on my iPhone, on my way to said market. 

Taiwan's Secret Pyramids

My friend Alain has a YouTube channel focusing on conspiracy theories, reptilians, UFOs, secret doors plus portals, sunken doors and so fort...