I've been lucky so far. After the first week's twin earthquakes, last week I got to experience a typhoon, which some people in other parts of the world refer to as a hurricane. I came back early from Yilan this past Monday morning because the afternoon buses and trains were canceled in anticipation of the storm. The Yilan bus terminal was jammed with other tourists, and extra emergency buses were leaving for Taipei every five minutes.

This was my move-in day for my new apartment. Mr. Song, the landlord, had come down from Taoyuan early to meet me when I told him I was getting back in the afternoon. By the time I got there, it was dumping rain and the wind was making umbrellas more of a liability than a help. I ran under the eaves to ring the buzzer, and a few minutes later Mr. Song came down and let me in. I followed him up four flights of narrow, slippery stairs to an apartment flat that had been separated into three or four studios.

My room was still littered with empty beer cans, yogurt cups, and newspaper. Mr. Song had been expecting to have enough time to clean up that afternoon before I arrived, he said. He refused my help, so I sat for a few minutes watching him gather the litter into plastic bags while he talked. He spoke too quickly for me to readily follow, and after a while he switched to English, possibly tired of repeating himself.

Outside the wind was getting more aggressive. It would mellow down for a bit, and then suddenly attack with a loud whoop, shaking the building and rattling the windows. A sound like a metal door slamming irregularly boomed from somewhere downstairs.

Mr. Song said this was the worst typhoon he'd seen in years, and it would get even worse around nightfall. It was only about 4pm, but the sky was already getting dark. Outside the window, trees were bent over sideways and large objects were flying through the air.

That was about when I realized I didn't have any food with me. I told this to Mr. Song. Don't go outside, he said. If something falls on you, you will die.

I went out and stood under the eaves, watching the wind make long blurry shapes with the rain. When it died down, I ran to the sidewalk and turned right toward a row of shops, stepping over large pieces of roofing material and tree branches. Everything was closed, corrugated garage doors pulled shut. I kept walking down the street, ducking under cover whenever the wind picked up strength.

Eventually I came to a restaurant that was still open. There were no customers inside, just two employees sitting behind the counter, probably stranded. I got two boxes of sesame noodles and some sour plum juice and turned back.

To be continued...

Police responding to a broken roof, while the storm picks up strength 

Mr. Song riding past stranded fish on the road the next morning by the river

By the river after the storm 

Things knocked over by the storm 

A local independent beer

Spirit animals 

Buns cat 

Grandma Millie's handmade cookies

Cherry Grandfather