One Leg Left

One of the things I think thin people cannot enjoy is a good massage. All those meatless body parts and sharp bone corners. It's almost like marinating fish or prawn and get poked here and there. I mean I would rather marinate a slab of three-layer pork. It is so luscious and "QQ" between the fingers.

The same for girlfriends, I suppose, especially those chubbier than Barbie. They are more fun to apply sunblock on.

When I was young, I was very skinny and viewed a massage more like a kind of paid molestation. I believe all skinny people still feel the same - that every touch is just too close to the bone. It's extremely ticklish too, which makes the whole exercise quite impossible to endure.

How to lie obediently on a massage table and let the masseur work his/her magic?

Given such reservations, it was thus no wonder that I seldom went out of my way to look for a massage before.

Growing up in Marsiling, I had a neighbourhood friend who would ride his motorbike into nearby JB to get his 'fix'. I put that in inverted commas because in JB then, a massage came with 'extra services' - the kind that's usually provided by the back-alley folks in Desker Road under certain red lighting conditions. The word "massage" became an euphemism for that sort of thing, oft-used on clients in karaoke lounges even.

My first massage did not happen in Singapore; it took place in Taiwan. I was there for my National Service and we had just wrapped up a two-week training stint and into our R&R (rest and recreation) break. All of us were expecting a three-day holiday in Taipei but for some reason, we ended up in Kaoshiung instead.

Our hearts sank a litte because we had heard of how fair the ladies in Taipei were as compared to the ladies further south. We had trained in the mountains of Hengchun near the southern-most tip of the Taiwan peninsular and seen folks so sun-tarnished that they could pass off as Malays or even Thais. And so we thought the ladies in Kaoshiung would be the same.

Fortunately, it turned out to be not true if the salesgirls serving us in the shops and departmental stores were anything to go by.

Even the girls we had seen riding on their scooters in the city streets were fair - being protected by long sleeves and gloves and sunhats during their rides. It was quite the sight when a bunch of them stopped at a traffic light. On a windy day, their sundresses would billow and their long hair flutter. It was exactly like some Kao shampoo ad on TV! I remember a similar scene in Ho Chi Minh City of girls in traditional dress and on bicycles.

Oh, before we SAF army boys were let loose in Kaoshiung, we were briefed by our platoon sergeant Staff Karu on what to expect and what NOT to do in that newly industrialised city. Or rather, what HE expected us not to do.

"Don't let me catch you in one of those barber shops. You botak guys definitely don't need a haircut. If you want "extra services" just answer your door at night in the hotel. It's not me knocking but you know what I mean." Chuckles all round. We had all been told that "xiao jie" (lady/prostitutes) would come solicit for business in the middle of the night. It happened at all the hotels... 3-star, 4-star not withstanding.

"And of course, don't forget to use this," added Staff Karu, holding up a packet of condoms for all to see.

"What I don't want you to do is go insult some hardworking mom hairstylist in this fair city. Not all of them want to give you "extra service" or cut your cock hair. Kabish?" We had yet to earn our officer-rank bars so we all nodded furiously in 'kabishment'. Got it! Keep away from barber shops! Of course, we all laughed at the cock hair bit. Our platoon sergeant was Indian, plump and hirsute (hairy); he conjured up quite the funny image. God save the lady in the barber shop who has to cut his, um, cock hair. Where to begin and where to stop?

Then again Indians were seldom seen in Taiwan at the time, so all things considered, they were exotic like the black negroes. Maybe even without asking, he would get an extended haircut and "extra service".

Someone shot up a hand and asked: "Staff, how about massage parlours?"

"I am going to one. If you see me, stay the hell away. I've seen enough of you guys for two weeks," said Staff Karu half in jest and half in murderous intent.

The rumour going round the camp at the time was about the fights the previous batch of NS men had gotten into. One was at the famous President underground departmental store; the other was outside a massage parlour. The NS-men were unit-level "Hokkien-peng" (dialect-speaking soldiers) and thus understandable. They would often "'pak" (fight) first, then talk later. We were officers-to-be and thus expected to behave better. But the fact is that we were all bookworms from an A-level Pre-U batch, so we were more likely to walk away from a fight than get physical. But in a foreign country, you never know what can happen.

So after reaching Kaoshiung and checking into our respective hotels, we each formed into our own pal-groups and went about exploring the city - Taiwan's second largest. The place looked neat and homey, so where were the barber shops and massage parlours soldier folks talked about?

In my group were Eddy, Siew Chong, Yew Kuan and Tiah Ann. Eddy was the most talkative amongst the lot. Siew Chong had an angel face but in reality, a really filthy mouth like some Hokkien peng. He was usually a quiet chap. But step on his tail and he will bite like a rattlesnake.

Yew Kuan was always reserved and contemplative but would laugh at our jokes. Tiah Ann was neither reserved nor gay (happy outlook). He was a sturdy chap and very helpful. He would go the distance without complaint. Tiah Ann was also the "koon king" (sleep king) of our platoon and would fall asleep whenever he stepped into an army three-tonner. It didn't matter where he was sitting - on the floorboards or on the bench - he would immediately fall asleep once the vehicle got moving, much to the annoyance of our platoon sergeant. Not even the threat of "signing extras" could change him. In the end, we just let him be and made sure someone else sat by the tailgate (whose duty was to keep an eye open to make sure no one fell out of the truck during a journey).

I don't know why we formed this group of mostly kwai kias (well-behaved kids). Perhaps they felt I was fierce and gang-ho and could take care of them. I usually got along fine with everybody and it didn't matter who was keeping me company. I could always chat somebody up - a trait that held me in good stead as a journalist later.

In any case, the few of us wandered around the city streets to take in the sights as well as to do a bit of window shopping. A part of Kaoshiung was very new at the time and reminded us of Orchard Road with its big glass office buildings and shopping centres. We guessed that Kaoshiung was doing well and industrialising and turning into a financial hub. But it was in the old part of Kaoshiung that we liked better to loiter in, where the small shops and eateries were. Lest they soon disappear, like what was happening back home in Singapore at the time.

In one old street, we came across an old zinc-sheeted warehouse that had been turned into a cinema. We were tempted to watch it but its promotional poster was half-torn leaving some words that confused us. We then asked a resident nearby what the movie was all about.

"Na ge shi yi fu san ji pian," was the old uncle's reply. That's a Cat III film, was what he said.

"San ji" meaning Category III, and "pian" meaning film. So it was a porno movie. We had heard of such "yellow" movie houses in Taiwan before. To come up against one was still gobsmacking. In Singapore, our film censorship was still the blanket type. The only cinema that came close to being nicknamed a Cat III one was Yangtze, where DOMs (dirty old men) would gather to watch "artistic" films screened there. Films that often starred Amy Yip and her famous frontal assets. The most popular movie was however "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" starring Daniel-Day Lewis and Juliette Binoche. I think the honest and explicit sex scenes did the trick, never mind the existential theme of the movie.

Still, for a group of army boys to find a Cat III cinema on their first trip out into town could be ranked akin to a prospector finding gold on the very first try. But funnily, none of us were keen to waste our time in some old building that looked more like a make-shift factory painted in rust-red. It was surprisingly located in a congested neighbourhood of stacked residential wooden homes and narrow alleyways. Well, in any case, I thought what a bunch of kwai kias we really were!

From the cinema, we emerged along a five-foot walkway by the main road. A couple of home eateries operated there. One sold beef noodles; the other sold the famous "mu gua niu nai" papaya milk drink. We ordered the largest cc one, which was huge, more like 500cc! That's how it was sold then, what was actually quite the novelty.

Afterwards, we walked a bit and came to a massage parlor. It was located on the ground floor of a small office building. We looked at each other as if we had hit the jackpot again. Tiah Ann was quick. He had already leapt up the few steps and turned around to report. "Staff Karu is not here!" We all "Wa lau eh!" and laughed at him for taking our platoon sergeant's comment so seriously.

"Hey, let's check and see how much they are charging," one of us suggested. We know we Singapore boys often got fleeced in Taiwan like any tourist in an unfamiliar place, so it was better to be sure first.

At the counter, we all ogled at the price list. It all seemed rather proper and agreeable. Each massage was not only time-based but 'parts based' as well, meaning we could specify whether it was Upper Body, Lower Body, Head, etc., that we want smacked and kneaded.

"Where's the charge for you-know-where?" someone joked, about a specific body part that was dear to us boys but not found on the list. I looked at the lady behind the counter to see if she understood what was being said. Nope, no reaction. As a matter of fact, she appeared rather impatient. I hoped no SAF unit soldiers had gone there before us to "spoil market" and her mood. We could then be in for one hell of a session. You know, bones and muscles cracked in furious and merciless payback fashion.

"I don't think this one is that sort of place. Look at the uniforms." It was true, the girls had on some grey-white cosmetic girl get-up. It all looked pretty professional except for the expression on their faces. They could be mistaken for running a funeral parlor.

"Look, Eddy, I think you have to do it yourself back in your hotel room," I smiled, as I ribbed him for making such a lewd suggestion. Eddy was actually not that sort; he was just being a smart-aleck.

In the end, only three of us opted to try. Yew Kuan and Tiah Ann decided their time would be better spent shopping for music cassettes, and so off they went.

I stepped into the massage parlour and took a sweep of the place. It was well-lit and quite spacious. It had about four tables side by side in a row. Above the head of each table was a TV set. Hmm, not bad customer service, I had thought then.

Do I need to change? I asked the masseur assigned to me in halting Mandarin. I thought I had to be butt naked and in a towel or something. It always was like that on TV or in the movies. That's how the hanky-panky starts, no?

I was in my OCS all-white PT kit. My masseur, a woman in her early 30s, told me I needed not strip. I thought it rather unusual but did not question her any further. In my mind, I was wondering what if she needed to oil me up. That would stain my whites, no? Platoon Sergeant Karu would not be happy about that.

More questions.

In any case, I lay myself down on the massage table as instructed. First prone and then on my back. The table was like any found in a doctor's office: rectangularish and cushion-wrapped in grey vinyl.

She started with my neck, then shoulders, then arms, then back. Lying down prone, I couldn't see the TV at all. I wondered maybe they should have one on the floor as well, you know, one of those portable 7-inch type, angled so I could be entertained in that position. But it was rather unnecessary as I began to feel drowsy from all my masseur's rolling hand-action. The last thing I remembered was if I should keep my wallet down the front of my pants, near my crouch. It would be safe from pilfering in that location. Right? Zzzzz......

I woke up to find that I was already flipped over. Did I...? Did she...? In any case, the masseur lady was already working on my right leg. She didn't seem in any particular hurry kneading it. In fact she was distracted by something in the ceiling. I look to where she was staring at and saw the TV that was there earlier. It then dawned on me that the TV was for her, not me. She was watching a daytime soap opera all the while massaging me 'blind'.

I felt ignored. But never mind.

Never mind that this was not an "extra service" massage parlour; the masseurs were not even particularly skilled nor customer-oriented. I think I could have done a better job massaging myself. I could have entertained myself too!

I was not alone in thinking that as I looked across to Siew Chong and he gave me that "what-is-going-on" look and shrug, as much as he could lying prone on that cushioned table clone. It was as grey and dull as our mood.

When my right leg was done, the masseur stopped and said, "Hao le."

What? What hao le (OK)? I asked.

"Yi ge cong tow dao le," she said, meaning my hour was up.

I checked my left leg. It was the same one that I had walked in with. The same one that had become tense after two weeks in the mountains of Hengchun. Tense still from that long bus ride to Kaoshiung. And tense still from the climb of steps into that massage parlour.

Mostly, it felt unviolated, untouched. I said this to the xiao jie: "Er, xiao jie. Ni hai mei you long je zhi qiao." (You haven't done this leg yet.)

"Shi jian dao le," she repeated, saying time was up.

"Ni na ni ke yi je yang zhou yi pan jiu ting?" (How can you stop halfway?)

She looked at me and saw that I was determined to get my other leg done. I was more pissed that she was watching TV and did not concentrate on her job properly. How could she leave me three-quarters done? It was like getting an half-ass haircut or being shooed from the cookhouse with still half a platter of food left. Not in the army, and certainly not in some massage parlour that I am paying my hard-earned NS dollars for.

In the end, the xiao jie relented and massaged my left leg. She did it in so perfunctorily a fashion that she might as well have just dug her nose. That would have required more time and effort!

After the session, the three of us gathered outside the parlour and exchanged notes. "That was some session, wasn't it?" I said. Siew Chong let out an expletive; he felt cheated. Eddy simply shrugged.

Later, when we met up with our other fellow cadets, our massage session became "incredible" (that the masseurs were so blase), "arousing" (only our intense displeasure), and "one-of-a-kind" (never again!) experience.

In a way, it was all true, which makes us wonder about all those "extra services" that the other guys bandied about. Perhaps they too were too embarrassed to say that they had been taken for a ride!

Next story: OCS Stress
Previous story: Temple Trouble

Cadet Taiwan 2 - R and R (Noodles, Books and Tiger Shows)

We cadets, of course, looked forward to our R&R at the end of our long period of Taiwan training. At the time, we weren't sure if our R&R destination was going to be Kaoshiung or Taipei. For some reason, we were told to expect the decision later. It turned out to be the industrial city of Kaoshiung. We were disappointed but not by much.

Before we left, we were given condoms to bring along. SAF soldiers were then known to be quite notorious in the red light districts of both cities.

I still remember that time we were given those lifesavers. We were all in our all-white PT kit sitting on those shared large wooden bunk beds cleaning our weapons for the very last time. In came our appointment-holder sergeant, a fellow cadet named Lim. He plonked down a plastic bag of condoms on the bed and ordered them to be passed around. "Each one take two, whether you are going to use it or not. I don't want any of them back," he said laughingly. Lim was efficient but also quite the joker. What he said was perfectly understandable. The Army had to be seen doing its job of offering sexual health aids to its 'blur', 'sotong' soldiers. And what would shy Cadet Lim do with all that prophylactics if we refused? Play stud?

I was amused at the time as I wondered which amongst us educated officer-to-be cadets would do the dumb thing of visiting a prostitute. I could understand if a Hokkien Peng soldier did that.. Not us so-called educated blokes who should know better. Of course, I was rather naive then. Visiting a prostitute has nothing to do with a person's education level. Just look at the scandal now enveloping the Civil Service in Singapore. Top civil servants involved in an online vice ring? And one of them an ex-principal of a well-known school some more. Who would expect that?

Of course, boys will always be boys. We opened the condom packs and started fooling around. Some made balloons while others showed how the condom could waterproof an M16 rifle, our wife. The Army was right: these sex aids were indeed very useful!

Kaohsiung City didn't turn out to be that bad at all. Even then it was already a proper city with wide thoroughfares and multistorey glass and concrete buildings (albeit just one or two though). Me and my buddies went to one (that looked like Takashimaya) and slurped up beef noodles at a foodcourt at the top level. The food court was an open-concept one right next to an amusement centre for kids. The noodles they served were fine (like our mee kia) and tasted handmade. It was famously from Taichung - a city we;;-known for its noodles. But the portions were small. I ended up eating three sets which drew wide-eyed looks of wonderment from that sweet girl serving us.

After the meal, we decided to look for a bookshop. At the time, Kaoshiung was the pirate book capital of Asia and I was under orders to buy certain texts for my brother's Marine Engineering course. He also advised me to pick up a title or two for my later Engineering studies at the local university. At the bookshop, we noted that a thick economic textbook was very popular with would-be students from Singapore. Another one was Grey's Anatomy, a popular but very expensive text (in original form) with the medical students.

I bought my school books (which were heavy) and also an extra lovely one on architectural rendering techniques. I still make reference to it even today. At the time I intended to make the switch from Engineering to Architecture if the administrative folks allowed.

Many of the pirated books were printed on cheap jotter paper and the illustrations in grey scale. Only the covers were of thick and embossed quality not unlike those offered by the photocopy shops in Queensway Shopping Centre. All the pirated books were priced at a fraction of the cost of the originals.

After the bookshop, we returned to our hotels to drop off the heavy items. We then went and explored Kaohsiung a bit more. At various trinket stalls, vendors were always trying to sell us "ma lao" or red jadite, which is still a major export product for Taiwan. That was not the first time we heard about such jade though.

Back at Base Camp, vendors were allowed to sell us cadet outside things in the canteen. Most sold ma lao and Cat's Eye - a dark grey or brown gemstone with a shiny slit band in the middle that made it look like the iris shape of a cat's eye, hence its name. They also tried to sell us all sorts of "kiam sern tee" or preserved tidbits. There were also local fruits.

Walking around the streets of Kaohsiung, we could not help but notice many Taiwanese girls riding scooters on their own. With a scooter, one could still wear a long swishy dress, still very feminine. Also, back then, helmet wearing wasn't compulsory yet and a few female riders could be seen wearing a sun hat or headscarf instead. It was all very charming and feminine. It was quite the sight when 10 or more scooters stopped at a traffic light.

At our hotel, a rumour was going around that someone had arranged for a Tiger Show. For the blur sotong, a Tiger Show is not a Siegfried and Roy-type of animal circus. It is a cabaret show that featured a woman doing unimaginable but incredible things with her privates. She could swallow up a beer bottle; spit out ping-pong balls like a machine gun (like that scene in the movie Priscilla: Queen of the Desert), or snap a sugarcane in two. That last bit is worth the admission ticket alone, I was told. If she could snap a sugarcane in two, what about your less than iron-clad dick?

I heard a Tiger Show performer could even swallow razor blades with her incredible vagina - a fact that would make anyone go "ewww", cross their legs, and hope not to die!

Of course, I was both disgusted and fascinated by such talk. In the end, I decided not to beladen my mind with such memories and so did not add my name to the list of patrons. I was sure the performer could do with the extra money, but I just couldn't bring myself to watch something quite like that. Such Tiger Shows would become staple for subsequent SAF soldiers who went to Taiwan and remained talked about for a long time. (A female editor friend of mine at a magazine once arranged a Tiger Show for a girlfriend's shower here in Singapore. I believe it took place at The Mandarin. Needless to say, they were all traumatised by the event and one even threw up. But that did not stop my editor friend from writing about her experience in the subsequent magazine issue.)

Before we left for R&R, our Staff Sergeant Karu did warn us to be wary of midnight knocks on our hotel doors. My buddies and I were allocated  a room on the fourth floor and worried about it. At around 1 am, sure enough, a lady knocked on my door and asked if I wanted "a xiao jie" (lady). I said no and went back to sleep.

The next morning, me and my buddy talked about it over breakfast. He was fast asleep and did not wake. We also saw a couple of xiao jies leaving the hotel. They weren't at all the skimpily-clad startlet sort with bad make-up. Most were plumpish and dressed like your average "da jie". She could have been my neighbour with a kid in kindergarten. I don't know, maybe I was too sold on 70's Hollywood image of a hooker back then.

The whole experience was rather startling. But if movies were to be believed, then the way the prostitutes behaved in a recent top-grossing Korean movie is even more unusual. In that film (titled The Chaser), prostitutes would even drive and pick up their clients and bring them to wherever they wanted the 'deed' done. This appear to make the whole economic transaction a 'buyer's market' in Korea. Is it really like that? Apparently the story was based on a real-life incident about a prostitute serial killer. (Now you can understand why it was so easy for the killer to nab his victims. They served themselves up literally!)

Another thing Staff Sgt Karu told us was to be wary when inside a barber shop. He said they provided more than just hair trimming services. It beggars the imagination of how big the sex industry was in Kaohsiung then. It would appear that every mother, daughter, aunt, hairstylist was involved in it somehow, maybe even the lady who served you beef noodles might throw in something 'extra'. The heresay and rumours became rather ridiculous (to me at least) after a while. But then again, without uniform servicemen, places like Bangkok and Subic Bay (in the Phillipines) might not have become so notorious and infamous. And we Singaporean soldiers training in Taiwan did do our part in helping create such a nefarious industry there. This aside, I remember coming across an adult cinema during one of my strolls through the backlanes of the city. It was small and seemed to be part of a dilapidated warehouse complex.

In any case, my overall R&R in Kaohsiung wasn't too bad. I really enjoyed the street food. The one thing I took away from that place wasn't the Tiger Show nor was it the brazen ladies-of-the-night calling. Nor was it the pushy salesgirls trying to sell me ma lao jade all the time. It was that traffic there could be a killer. Whether it was bike or taxi, the folks there drove with impunity, crisscrossing lanes and weaving in and out of traffic with no regard for rules or their own lives even. It was very similar to the traffic lawlessness in India or Batam today.

After a narrow miss waiting to cross a side street, I remember thinking how silly it would be for me to survive mountainous Taiwan army training to be killed like a stray dog on the street. That was something the good folks in the Army did not warn us about. No amount of condoms is going to help me with that one if I didn't open my own eyes to what's zooming about me. 

Afternote: It would be 12 years later that I revisited Taiwan for army training. This time the R&R was in Taipei. Traffic might have improved but the same sexual activities still beckoned, including that infamous Tiger Show. 

Related story: Army Guys & Porn Next story: Tough Cadet Training

Cadet Taiwan 1 - Training

I think as a cadet, we all looked upon our impending training in Taiwan as some sort of expansive military training that included travel. It's not the same as Brunei. Brunei was more jungle and back to basics. Taiwan, we romanticised as a place of natural beauty with scenic and spiritual mountains and valleys and rice fields.

We also understood that in Taiwan, Point A to Point B would be wholly further than the same two points in Singapore! But that's ok. The cool weather in Taiwan made walking that distance a pleasure (or so we imagined).

We went to Taiwan during our Senior Term in OCS when we were already "lao chiau" (old bird) cadets; it was just another exercise for us (named Ex Starlight). But to those who were vying for the Sword of Honor award, Taiwan training was proofing ground for appointment holders. I had no such aspirations, so I pretty much looked forward to our "holiday" trip.

To Brunei, we flew on C130 cargo planes; to Taiwan, we took SIA planes. That itself said something very different about our training focus.

From the airport, we took a long bus ride to Hengchun - a dusty outpost right at the southern tip of the Taiwan island.

We stayed in old single and double-storeyed brick/plaster buildings with peeling paint, and slept on communal wooden bunkbeds (long, wide ones). We did everything communal then. When we bathed, we scooped cold water from a waist-high cement trough in the centre of the bathroom. When we pooped it was a squat over a long drain that ran through all the cubicles. God bless if the person in the cubicle before you was having diarrhea; everything would just run by you if someone flushed. As you can expect in such a situation, toilet ceremonies were accomplished with a minimum of fuss. Who could loiter and read in such conditions? (The rush to the toilet was usually to "secure" the use of the first toilet in the row, to avoid all the other "shit", so to speak!)

Although training was tough, I enjoyed my Taiwan topo the most. We crisscrossed mountains and many farmlands. The scenery was unlike anything most of us have seen, not even in Malaysia, except perhaps Cameron Highlands. There were a couple of memorable incidents: One time, my topo group bumped into another and we decided to join force. The six or so of us were hungry and thirsty. Not long after, we chanced upon an orchard and walked by a pomelo tree with some 12-14 ripe fruits hanging invitingly in the air. The tree was average sized but narrow, no taller than the usual rambutan tree in Singapore. We knew the fruits were ripe because a few had already dropped to the ground.

Having eaten all the fruits we could pick up (and checking to see that no one was around) we used the last pomelo as a tossing cannonball to knock the others off their high perches. Down they came with hardly a dent (there was ample of us to catch the falling ones). Incredibly we sat there and ate them all up, cradling our rifles all the time in case we needed to scoot. That was one satisfying fruit "robbing" trip, better than drinking those instant lemonade drink the SAF provided in our combat rations. The pomelo juice was all natural!

However, as good soldiers, we felt guilty looking at the bare tree afterwards and so decided to leave some money behind as recompense. We jammed the notes into the latch-lock of a small shed by the tree. We hoped the amount would be enough for what we took! Oddly enough, that was the only pomelo tree there. Perhaps we were destined to run into this "giving" tree*, haha. (*A Shel Silverstein book reference.)

Another time, after sampling some soft and juicy pear-sized guava fruit (walking through an orchard no less), we came upon a stretch of light forested area that was filled with large grey spiders. Usually chatty and talking cock during open topo trips like this, we for once shut up and held out our rifles in front of us. That way, we could break any web that might happen to lay across our path. The way we were supposed to go was a footpath through a light secondary forest; we had little choice but to continue. With so many spiders to the left and right of us, the whole passage was quite unnerving. Besides, the situation was made worse with daylight failing. Fortunately, we managed to tiptoe our way out of there without incident. No spider attacked us nor anyone turned hysterical!

At the end of the path, we turned each other round to make sure no eight-legged furball hitched a ride on our SBOs and full-packs. And guess what? We later learned that Taiwan was home to giant brown tarantulas as well. I guess it was good that we did not know that fact earlier or else we would have high-tailed out of there like schoolgirls seeing a ghost. That would have caused some post traumatic stress disorder or PSTD, eh? Man, that would be most embarrassing!

I enjoyed topo-ing through the south of Taiwan very much. It was all very scenic and nostalgic. Often we would come across some charming hamlet with an old Chinese house dating back to the early century, set in some valley painted rush yellow by rice fields waiting to be harvested. There would be streams trickling by stone embanked roads or into rock pools.

The households were often friendly, and the hamlet store owners happy to make us tired soldiers a nice bowl of cup noodles. The kids loved our SAF-issued hardtack biscuits because the taste was actually milky. I liked them biscuits too and would off-load any we could spare to the hamlet kids running up to us chanting "ah ping ge" (Big Brother soldier). One time I even saw the hardtack biscuits being sold from a tin in a hamlet shop still packed in their dark green army packaging.

Another thing about the kids was that they were always very tanned, looking very much like Malay or Thai children. I think it had to do with the fact that high up in the mountains, UV rays were stronger. The village men and women folk were also no less spared. No wonder they all wore long-sleeved shirts and covered their heads with a scarf or straw hat when out in the fields!

Up in the mountains, it would get very cold suddenly too. We then had no choice but to put on those smelly and scratchy SAF woolen pullovers. Taiwan was perhaps the only time we used them as coming from tropical Singapore we didn't need them usually. I wonder if such pullovers are standard issue still.

Food back in base camp was ok. The bonus was to be given the unusual produce from Taiwan's huge fruit industry. I had my first taste (or no taste, depending on one's reaction) of dragon fruit; as well as a green apple-ish fruit that had flesh the fibrous texture of celery stalk. I've not eaten or seen that fruit since.

Probably the toughest training we had during Taiwan was the one that involved digging defensive positions or a.k.a "trench digging".

The hill we Platoon 10 was assigned to defend was part of a mountainous range. As usual the place had been dug before by  a previous batch of trainees and finding a new spot there to dig became a challenge. That was not the only problem. The area had ready-made bunkers that we were all grateful to discover. Yay! No more digging or so we thought. We actually put the suggestion to our platoon commander, Capt Ang. Weren't we suppose to use existing structures whenever possible to save time and energy? Wasn't that what we were taught?

No, came the reply. Don't get smart-alecky with me, Capt Ang said. You dig.

And so, we "kuai kuai" returned to our positions and marked out our future trenches. We knew it was a long shot getting Capt Ang to agree as we were on a training exercise. But dang, staying in those mad-made bunkers would have been such a sweet deal! And so, not really disappointed, we dug and dug and dug. And dug some  more.

What was supposed to be a two-night affair turned out to be a four-night one with the trenches going no further than knee-deep. The trenches were supposed to be chest-deep by then. The earth was not hard but the rocks were, as were the roots of those tough, sinuous mountain trees.

We broke so many changkuls that Capt Ang finally gave the order to stop. We couldn't afford to sign any more 1206s (army doc for lost or damaged goods). We cadets also couldn't afford any more fingers for blistering either.

In the end, we went back to the original idea of using the existing structures. I was fortunate to be next to one and so organised noodle parties on the quiet for my cadet buddies who were on the same ridge line. That simple bunker shielded us from our imaginary enemies and our not-so-imaginary instructors. It kept the wind out marvelously for our stove-fires to keep going for churning up warm and comforting noodle soup. Man, what comfort!

Afternote: After some experience, my advice is not to have instant noodles. The chemicals play havoc with your bowel system (same with 3-in-1 teas and coffees). It's better to just have fruit. In any case, there's so much option in the supermart these days - from cup soups to cup noodles to packet cereal. Milo was fine but Horlicks we avoided because it made us heaty. And, instant beehoon was at the time a novelty.

Related story: Lantern Night and Brunei Training; Next: R&R in Kaohsiung