Jack McCaw “Carlsbad Caverns King Palace” (photo

Ridgeline Review

speaking Chinese, understanding the culture, proud that I made a home in a place that I thought as a child was another planet.

Liyu Lake, on this day, didn’t have the typical smells or sounds either. After I left the open alley, I came upon a pavilion. There I listened to a sixty-something-year-old grandpa play traditional Taiwanese music on the saxophone. I’m not a fan of traditional Taiwanese music, but slow nostalgic music fit the mood of the day. Once he finished playing the song, without missing a beat, he stepped off the stage, picked up a Xiao, and began to play the next song. Only three people sat in chairs and listened to him. Should I do the same?

Then I realized at this time of year entertainers know their music is needed for ambiance, no attention to them is necessary, so I decided to keep on walking. As I walked, most of the stores were empty, reminders of when Mainland Chinese came to visit in droves during the pre-election, pre-COVID days and spent gobs of dough on anything and everything. A few food stalls were open. One sold red bean cakes, another stinky tofu. The stinky tofu store I didn’t see, but I knew was there. Once you smell that rancid odor, you will never forget it for the rest of your life. In the sixteen years I’ve been here, I’ve eaten it twice and I still can’t stomach the stuff. At the main entrance, the parking lot looked like rows of Hostess Cakes in plastic containers lined up one next to the other. On the other side of the main entrance, a dozen young moms, dads, and grandparents stood waiting to board the Classic Train. Each car of this toy-like vehicle was one color of the rainbow. It drove lazy tourists around the Lake. “Not necessary,” I thought, since most of the people who were walking around were senior citizens. Anyone could do the walk, fast or slow, in less than an hour.

Other excited holiday-goers lined up to board the Little Dragons, peddle boats to cruise along the lake. And these Little Dragons were complete with coverings because heaven forbid if someone gets darker from the dominant, strong, evil sun. I stared at the couples moving their feet in slow circles, chuckling about their lives.

On my way home, I took shade under a delicate, thin-leaved bamboo and gazed at Liyu Lake one last time. I watched the sun as it reached the three o’ clock point in the sky. Ripples from the lake looked like the universe had spread Dolce Luna crystals all over it. That made me think, “Does Lunar New Year, like Christmas, appear more beautiful, more special because of the excitement of the holiday?” Perhaps, I have become Taiwanese.

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