If all the lights in the sky were wishes... Oh wait -- they ARE!!!

No good deed goes unpunished, right? Well since moving to Taipei, I've had to be a bit more optimistic about things. Optimistic that I won't get lost on the buses, three of which may have the same number but take COMPLETELY different routes. Optimistic that the strangely textured meaty thing floating in my bowl of soup is an over-cooked mushroom. Optimistic that the ghosts hiding under the floor boards of my Japanese-style apartment are nice ghosts and haven't seen The Grudge. So instead I try to go with, "No good deed goes unREWARDED." Working Chinese New Year is an example of a good deed rewarded.

The Mastermind, his wife, and the small fry

The Saturday of CNY I get a phone call from my editor colleague -- a grad student just heard back about a manuscript. It needs to be edited IMMEDIATELY to be considered for immediate publication. I'm thinking, why, oh why, did I answer my phone? But no worries -- the weather is wet and cold and not great for adventures and mayhem anyway. So what the hell. After my AWESOME lazy CNY Day with an AWESOME family who adopted me for the feasting-tea sipping-mahjongg playing holiday, I sharpened up my red pens and got cracking. Ya-da-ya-da-ya-da, said student was so overwhelming happy I could help him out of a bind, he invited me to Pingxi (Pronounced: Ping-She) with his wife, chatty 2 1/2 year old
daughter, and friends. "Friends" was

another colleague and his wife and cute, curly-haired little daughter. So the first Saturday of the Lantern Festival found me crammed into a car with two couples, two kiddos and a light-up paper dragon, everyone chattering happily in Hindi up into the mountains to the east of Taipei towards Pingxi. I didn't know it at the time, but I was in the presence of a MASTER strategist who had somehow figured out how to get five people, two babies, a stroller, AND a car into what is actually kind of a "no car zone" for the insane Lantern Festival.

Here's how it shakes down. The 15th day after the LUNAR New Year is the first full moon of the year. Tradition has it that lanterns were to be hung for people to go out and enjoy this event and chill with their neighbors -- sort of a great big block party. People descend in droves on Pingxi, a town a couple of hours east of Taipei up and down some curvy roads in the mountains, with paper lanterns and wishes. On the paper lanterns they will write the wishes and send them both up into the clouds to the gods. 

So lets say you're in Pingxi have some wishes but you forgot your lantern, you can buy one there for about US$5. 

Of course, you'll want to scribble some wishes on it, and so they also supply brushes and ink along the railroad tracks of the quaint town. And you'll also want to buy a little paper stack soaked in kerosene, which if you're lucky, someone will help you attach to the base of the lantern. The necessities obtained, the wishes cast, and our 3-foot tall pink lantern was ready to be sent aloft. After lighting the little fuse it doesn't take long for the hot air to inflate the lantern, and before I knew it, everyone drew their fingers away and sent the lantern gracefully floating upwards.

If this sounds peaceful and idyllic, then it's only because I haven't fully described the mayhem. It's like someone poured the 6 million-strong population of Taipei onto the serene mountain, handed a few of them microphones, guitars, firecrackers, and assorted noise-makers, and assigned them a holiday to have some fun and make some noise. I've heard that the Taiwanese are immune to loud noise, and the lantern festival made me believe it to the core of my soul!

A few industrious souls attached firecrackers to the bottoms of the lanterns and set them off as they began their short-lived graceful ascent.

The release of the big lantern and scores of smaller lanterns came in neatly coordinated waves. Between releases, the crowds were kept entertained by the President of Taiwan himself -- who walked within three feet of me as I was arriving at the staging area -- a Taiwan Idol winner and a rock band belting out Taiwanese and Western favorites,  firefighters putting out the constant little fires that erupted -- including one atop their little red truck -- and a couple of very polished MCs who kept people apprised of the program. At some point the lights would go out and the lanterns would slowly be lit. A hush of anticipation and the final signal. The lanterns began floating up and the moment of silence gave rise to the collective, "Ahhhhhh!" as the lanterns took flight -- wishes to the heavens for the new year.