Special to Accent magazine
December 2005
With four million
people crammed into a city that is roughly one-seventeenth the size of Ottawa,
getting out for some exercise is a bit more difficult than one might imagine.
You can’t take a
brisk walk down a city sidewalk, because you will be constantly swerving around
street vendors and food stalls, dodging errant scooters jockeying for a parking
space, or trapped behind the slow-moving local out for a stroll. North
Americans tend to walk at a pace that is much faster than the average Asian,
even when we aren’t late for work. The locals must think we are always in a
rush to get somewhere. They just meander along, down the middle of the
sidewalk, stopping abruptly in front of every window that interests them.
If you are in a
hurry, you will constantly find yourself tapping the locals on the shoulder and
saying “jeh gwo” which literally means “please give me some light” or, loosely
translated, “please move over”. In most cases, you are better off walking along
the side of the street, dodging swerving scooters and taxis coasting to the
curb. Forget walking for exercise.
Running tracks
exist in most districts of the city, but unless you have time to do your
exercise mid-morning or mid-afternoon, you may have trouble finding your own
space in a lane. The Taiwanese like to take their daily exercise in the park,
so the track will be full before and after working hours, and during lunch. In
addition, if you are sensitive to poor air quality, or have any breathing
problems at all, you do not want to be exercising out-of-doors in Taipei, even
on a ‘clear’ day. The clearest air in Taipei is right after a big rain, but on
those days, the running tracks are packed with people, all day long.
The other
obstacle to the park running track is the dog on the loose. Leashes are
extremely rare in Taiwan, as dogs are trained with a switch of bamboo. From
puppyhood, the master takes the dog for frequent unleashed walks. If it strays
or gets into mischief, it is whacked with the training switch. This is
difficult for many foreigners to bear, but I am told that it is the preferred
method of training dogs. They learn the ways of the city and, if accidentally
let out of the house without a leash, they are less likely to go running
crazily into the street. The problem with this method, however, is that an
unleashed dog is still a dog, and if it encounters other canines, it will most
likely act on instinct and run over to confront/greet them. As the center of
the running oval is the most popular place to let dogs loose for a run, you can
imagine the scene. Dogs are frolicking in the grassy center of the oval,
chasing balls and catching Frisbees. People are running and walking around the
track. As newcomers approach the oval and prepare to cross the track into the
center, their unleashed dogs spot the other dogs and go barreling across the lanes
toward their comrades. Anyone running in those lanes must possess great leaping
and ducking skills, to avoid being floored by a four-legged sprinter. In light
of these considerations, running in the park isn’t my favourite thing either.
There are numerous
fitness centers and gyms in Taipei. California Fitness, a huge American-style
chain with glossy black tiles and spotlights, has several locations. However,
if you have an aversion to any of the following – ear-splitting dance music,
lineups at weights machines, overcrowded aerobics studios and cramped change
rooms – this scene isn’t for you.
Your first hint
of what is to come is the six or seven uniformed staff members waiting to greet
you when you approach the entrance to the gym. With their club music spilling
out on to the street, they approach – no, confront – passersby with free weekly
trial coupons, in an effort to drum up more memberships. They are already full
to capacity, of course, so if you buy a membership now, you will be restricted
to exercising between the hours of 10 to 12, 2 to 4, and 10 to midnight. If you
opt to splurge on an annual membership, a personal trainer will practically be
forced upon you, at the cost of $1,000NT ($35 CDN) per hour. These
minimally-trained fitness staff do little more than supervise the client while
he or she attempts to use the various complicated machines, don’t necessarily
advise the client against doing exercises that are dangerous, and they aren’t
necessarily confident about just how to use each machine. Basically, they just
double the number of bodies in the gym. But it doesn’t really matter, anyway.
Most of the members of the gym are not there to exercise but to meet people, it
seems. The fact that they do their hair and makeup before exercising (males included)
is a dead giveaway.
Recently, a
friend stumbled upon an activity that we thought just might be the answer to
getting some exercise and stress relief from life in the busy city. Mountain
and riverside cycling paths are abundant in Taipei, and bike shops are on every
corner. So, kitted out from head to toe, we wedged our bikes in the elevator
and out into the cacophony of noise that is our city. At first I thought I
would have a heart attack, as taxis and buses kept cutting me off while I rode
hugging the curb. But I got used to it. When it was really gridlocked, I dodged
pedestrians on the sidewalk.
When we finally
turned off the main street about ten minutes later, it was like entering
another world. The corrugated iron buildings lining the narrow alley shut out
all the noise from the thoroughfare we had left behind, and the silence closed
in around us. As we began our uphill climb, the exhaust fumes from the traffic
seemed to clear, and we filled our lungs with cool, if not altogether fresh
air.
The narrow street
thinned to a tractor path winding up and around the mountain through Taipei’s
biggest hillside graveyard. Spindly palms were the only vegetation among the
colourful tombs covering every square metre of the slope. At one bend in the
road, ghostly music wafted from speakers above an altar that was cut into the
hillside. The climb up the hill was hard work, but it was worth it. From the
crest, we could see most of the city, and look Taipei 101 straight in the eye.
After a few
minutes’ rest and a drink of water, we started to head downhill. What happened
next just may prove to be the main obstacle to my becoming a regular cyclist in
the Taipei hills. As we rounded a corner and hit the brakes in order to avoid
careening off into the graveyard (there are no guardrails, save a few rusty
mattresses on the sharpest turns), we heard a strange grumbling.
Standing on the
bluff above us were three of the blackest, most menacing looking feral dogs I
have ever seen. All I could think was “The Hounds of the Baskervilles”. But, as
they hunt at night and sleep all day, we still had a few hours’ grace. The curs
just watched us balefully as we picked up speed and pedaled away.
We thought we
were in the clear when a scooter with two dogs riding the running board
approached us from behind. As the driver slowed for the curve, the dogs spotted
my friend and me cycling up ahead. What dog can resist the urge to take a bite
of a spinning tire? Especially when there is a fleshy calf beside it? The next
thing I knew, I had a dog on either side of me, teeth bared. Spurred to action
by the intriguing ruckus, the graveyard dogs also joined the pack at my legs. I
kicked at them, still cycling, and tried to sound aggressive: “Go! Get away!”
Thankfully, the owner caught up to us and ordered his dogs back into obedience.
The feral mutts stood posturing in the middle of the lane, too lazy to keep up
the chase. Adrenaline coursing through my legs, I continued wobbily down the
hill and home.
We discussed the
day’s events over Vietnamese spring rolls later that evening, and considered
our remaining options for exercise. Winter is the best season for wind sports
in Taiwan. Kite surfing, anyone?
-30-
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| Many Taiwanese like to start their morning in the park with Tai Chi at sunrise. Ballroom dancing lessons are held on the pavement under highway overpasses as public spaces are at a premium. |
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