Saturday14thApril07

I was beaten up for the first time in my life today. And I have some pretty impressive bruises as souvenirs

The word massage has always been synonymous with relaxation, and since the Chinese are generally known to be the masters of massage I decided to take advantage while I'm here. Little did I know that here the word massage can pretty much be directly translated into 'systematic beating'. As I sat there, one girl punching and slapping my arm till she was satisfied with it's redness, while another was busy battering my calf, I couldn't help but wonder if I had lost my mind to put up with this. Last time I checked I wasn't a masochist In most places, you get a massage and find that you will relax as it progresses. Here, you get a massage and find that you will relax.

Later on I headed up to Danshui with a friend. It's like the Taiwanese equivalent of Blackpool (which, came as a bit of a shock since everyone had told me how beautiful and serene it was.) It may not have been the most beautiful place ever but this estuary echoes on land, the teeming fascinating life that occurs under water when salt and fresh water converge. Walking along the main promenade you experience mild sensory overload; the smell of copious varieties of food on sticks - from whole roasted squid, to teeny fried quails eggs; the multitude of noises - from megaphones beckoning in prospective punters to old men with screechy voices and screechier undefinable instruments; the throngs of people, young and old, tourist and local, all apparently mesmerised by this bizarrely enchanting place.

We decided to take a short ferry ride to the edge of the estuary where we were met by the unmistakable smell of the sea, (although it smelt distinctly warmer than the North Sea.) Here it was a lot quieter, and apparently tourists don't dare make the ferry ride here. My friend (despite the fact she's Asian) turns more than a few heads when walking down the street as she may well be one of the most beautiful women who ever existed. I, as a Scottish female, am the equivalent of the abominable snowman (whiter than white, and thought to be an urban myth in this country.) The combination meant that we became one of the tourist attractions (but for the locals.) It was a warm day with a light breeze, so we decided to hire a couple of bikes to take in the lovely harbour scenery. Turns out, females are not expected to be able to ride bikes, (or anyone over 4½ft judging by the height of the seats,) so all they had were males mountain bikes. They were cheap so we didn't complain. However, it seems that they were cheap for a reason. It transpired (while I was cycling downhill on a pathway of people) that the breaks on my bike were only a decoration, and served no purpose. I would have used the Flintstone method, but not in flip-flops. As if that wasn't enough, my back wheel decided to come loose, quickly followed by my front wheel. It was not the best bike I've ever ridden. The sun set very quickly and with it the harbour was beautifully illuminated. It may have been an interesting trip but it was worth it.

It took several hours to get home afterwards, I had judged my timing a little badly so almost got locked out, but thankfully made it with 3 mins to spare.