This One Time, I Ate A Bagel from the Gods...

After only vaguely recognizing an earthquake that measured 6.3 on the Richter while slipping into dreams last night, the group went on a field trip to the northern coast today. Keep in mind, storms are a comin' our way; that typhoon that hit the northern Phillippines last night is headed towards Taiwan right now. We were shooed away from a cliff overlooking the turbulent waters by the police and then headed into the city of Keelung to see a procession of the gods at one of the bigger temples there.

The procession was such an experience. We got there, worked our way to the front of the umbrella-populated, poncho-toting crowd only to have a large firework explode in our faces and float up our nostrils. Smaller, higher-pitched sparklers went off for about 30 seconds. A series of shrines came and went in front of the crowd with policemen directing traffic around the path of the people carrying the shrines. I was without an umbrella and had given my rainjacket to someone else, so I was drenched by this point.

It finally came time for the big shrine to be carried out of the temple! About 10 men wearing elaborate facepaint carried the shrine, covered in plastic wrap, out of the temple and between the lines of the crowd. As they were affiting themselves with ponchos, I started taking pictures of two men in front of me. They noticed me and one of the men reach under his poncho, ripped a bagel-like bread off of a chain of bagel-like breads around his neck and handed it to me.

I'm pretty sure it wasn't the best bagel I've ever had, but it was at the time. I'm not sure whether it was because I knew that it was food from the gods or whether I was just in pure ecstacy after having been recognized in a ritual that I barely understood.

As the procession started its slow, stagnant march around the city block, a Taiwanese man, seeing me drenched to the bone, grabbed me and pulled me under his rainbow colored umbrella with him. He collected more and more of us until there must have been 5 of us squeezed under a cover meant for no more than 2. Huddled together, we started walking with the crowd. Out of nowhere a woman jumped in front of us and handed us her umbrella, insisting we take it from her. This was no dinky umbrella; it had room for at least 4 and a nice, solid wooden handle. She disappeared, leaving her umbrella with us.

Rituals. They are something I have come to love about Taiwanese culture that I don't feel have had a great presence in my life. At least, not in the way that they would had I grown up in Taiwan. Everyday, I see people giving offerings and lighting incense at a corner shrine down the street. Yesterday, when they celebrated the Autumn Moon Festival, the shrine was packed every time I walked by, fire so mighty it made me wonder about the safety of the burning tower in the middle of the sidewalk.

It was a great day in the rain. But it is nice to be showered and in the comfort of a dry sweatshirt.

B(ee)