Owing to extreme pressure of work, I have not yet been able to post episode 3 of my slash fan fiction based on Pizi/Ying Xiong. I hope to get it out there within the next few days. Thanks to readers for the appreciative comments here on neveridol and elsewhere. I am pleased to think that I am not alone in believing there is a definite slashy subtext in the high rating and critically acclaimed Taiwanese police drama series.

For fans who have yet to read the first two instalments, you can find episode 1 (and a full disclaimer) here and episode 2 here.

This work of fan fiction is not for sale. For the full disclaimer, click here. Read episode 1 here. Rating for this episode: M, violence, sex references.

Episode two: Into the forest

Photo credit: see below.

Nestled against Hao Ke’s side on the bed, as if it were a teddy bear, was a laptop computer. On a bedside table were two other small laptops linked together by a cable, both sprouting VGA adapters and USBs. They in turn were surrounded by a flotilla of small media devices. Sick the boy might be, but he was still online and connected, thought Ying Xiong. A few days before he had bought what he hoped was a suitable present for Hao Ke: one of the new generation electronic book readers. Now taking note of the array of devices set up around the room, he hoped the young IT specialist did not already have one.

Ying Xiong had been in the room for a few moments before he noticed a small woman in her forties slumped in an armchair in the corner near the head of the bed. She, too, was dozing, but she opened her eyes at his greeting. ‘So you’ve finally arrived,’ she whispered, in a tone  of reproach. ‘Keep your voice down.  He’s taken his medication and he won’t wake up again until 4.00 or 4.30.’

It took Ying Xiong a moment to realise this was Hao Ke’s mother. She looked much older and wearier than she had when he had last seen her in the ICU of the port city hospital to which Hao Ke had first been taken in the tumultuous aftermath of the shooting incident. Her fine features now seemed slack and puffy with exhaustion. Her eyes were scored by deep lines and smudged by dark shadows: the wages of worry, he supposed.

‘Why did my son have to deliver the disc,’ she now hissed at Ying Xiong. ‘He was not even on your operational staff. Look at him now. Last month he had to have more surgery on his back. His digestion still isn’t good.’

‘Dui bu qi,’ Ying Xiong murmured contritely, but all the same he felt his hot, impetuous temper rising. What else could he have done? They had been holding his own mother hostage. The agent of Sarkozy had ordered him to pitch Hao Ke off an upper level walkway to his certain death and he had refused to do it. Then they had shot the boy anyway, from below. ‘Sarkozy is a very dangerous criminal organisation, very high tech, with international connections. And there was so much’ corruption,’ he explained, trying to keep his voice level. ‘We were a small unit of friends, working together in secret, as a team.’

‘You were responsible,’ she insisted. ‘Hao Ke told me all about it. It only happened because you were tricked by that false Interpol agent.’

This charge hit home. Ying Xiong bit off an angry protest. Hao Mama did not deserve his wrath, nor did he want to wake his friend who still lay pale and inert in his white pyjamas. He strode around the foot of the bed to look out the window. It gave onto a spectacular view of a heavily wooded mountain valley, the panorama only partly obscured by a hospital outbuilding. He noticed that the rain had stopped but thick fog still clung to the mountain peaks and higher slopes.

The young police officer reflected that Hao Ke’s mother was right about one thing. If there was any part of the entire fiasco over the disc that he felt deeply ashamed about it was Cheng Yuan’s success in rekindling the feelings he had had for her during their joint secondment to an international police agency in New York City. With cold efficiency and calculation, she had lured him into a passionate liaison in a hotel room, where he had awakened the next morning alone, robbed of his handgun and of his dignity.

Having regained his composure, Ying Xiong realised there was nothing to be gained from arguing with his friend’s mother. He politely took his leave of her, promising to return by late afternoon. He handed her the present with instructions to give it to Hao Ke should he wake up before he returned. Hao Mama, perhaps regretting her harsh words, agreed amiably enough.

Ying Xiong had thought of driving to a nearby village that he had seen on the way in, that promised hot and noisy tearooms and cafes, but now he realised he preferred to be alone. Encountering an orderly pushing an elderly man in a wheelchair, he asked on a whim if there were any hiking trails nearby. The fellow responded with enthusiasm, explaining that the hospital grounds were adjacent to a national park and one of the trailheads could be picked up at the bottom of the garden.

He soon found the path the led into the forest. It was not paved but the surface was of hard packed earth and not too muddy. He was anyway wearing good quality elastic sided boots, Zai Tian having advised him that the northern capital could be wetter in winter than the south. By now therain had stopped completely and within minutes he was in a quiet world, away from urban sounds. He readjusted his hearing to the susurration of leaves and drip of the rainwater from the canopy above.

Several metres along he noticed a minor trail that branched off to his left, leading into the heart of the forest. In the clearing above it, he caught a sudden flash of blue: it was a bird with a very long tail.  It soon disappeared into the foliage, but he was sure it was a blue magpie. They were supposed to be hard to spot and he felt certain it was auspicious to have seen one so soon on his trek.

Continuing along the main trail, he walked for several minutes before he reached the first of a number of signposted observation points. Here he could look down the entire length of the valley he had seen only obliquely from Hao Ke’s window. The hillsides were clothed in shaggy broad leafed deciduous trees, and although the tree cover was dense, he imagined he could catch glints here and there of a small river running fast at the bottom of the sharp V that marked the valley’s descent.

He pulled his camera out of his pocket and removed it from a waterproof bag. The camera was a recent present from his mother, who liked to encourage his hobbies and what she though of as his artistic side. He took a few shots that looked all right when he checked them on the digital playback, but soon the drizzle began again and a ceiling of fog was beginning to obscure the tops of the ridges. Droplets of water were beginning to build up on the lens. He put the camera back into the bag and as an afterthought, he put his mobile phone in there as well. He then zipped the bag and its contents securely into an inner pocket of his jacket. He turned to make his way back to the center, but realizing there was still nearly an hour to go before Hao Ke was likely to wake up, he determined to press on to the next lookout. A sign indicated it was only 1.5 km away.

By the time he reached it, though, the fog had greatly reduced the visibility and there was little to be seen and nothing to photograph. He turned back, keeping his eye on his footing. Suddenly, he felt his phone vibrate against his chest. With the fog now closing in, he was determined to get out of this melancholy forest as quickly as possible, so he kept on walking while he dug his phone out of the bag and checked the message. It was from Zai Tian. He himself was on his way to the capital.  There had been a confirmed sighting of Gao Yi in an upmarket nightclub in the eastern suburbs,  and the local police wished to draw upon his expertise. Zai Tian went on to suggest that after the conference with the locals, they should meet up. He proposed a nightclub crawl that would involve police work and a good deal of partying. Ying Xiong noted ruefully that his partner was still ignoring his off duty status, while continuing to assume that he was always at his disposal.

Ying Xiong had walked for about a further twenty minutes before he realized that he should have reached the hospital’s grounds by now, but the facility was nowhere in sight. The path was narrower than he remembered, too, and very muddy. Visibility had closed down to a few metres in front of him and even with his hood on, his face ran with moisture. He wondered if he had accidentally strayed onto the side path, the one where he had seen the blue magpie. Just as he was considering whether or not to retrace his steps, he saw an indistinct blur of red coming towards him along the path. Seconds later, emerging from the mist, he saw a young, fair-haired woman in a red parka. She was picking her way carefully with a formidable looking walking stick in one hand, while holding a German shepherd on a lead attached to a harness in the other.

The visibility was so poor he had not even noticed the dog until they were almost upon him. These hiking trails were popular with tourists, he knew. But why would a tourist have a dog? Were dogs even allowed in the park, he wondered. Or was she an expat just out for a walk in the rain?

The woman smiled at him as he stepped aside to allow her and the dog to pass. ‘Hello, Miss,’ he said politely in his formal English. ‘Be careful. The trail is muddy.’

She smiled again but did not respond. As they pressed past him he could smell the dog’s coat in the damp. He turned away and walked on.

Then some instinct honed by police work and martial arts training prompted him to whirl around just as a heavy blow struck him on the shoulder. Unprovoked, the foreign woman had hit him with her heavy walking stick and was now lining up to hit him again. The blow had knocked him to his knees, but he quickly sprang up and recovered his balance. He lashed out with his foot, trying to knock the stick from her hand. The woman, her smile now frozen into a menacing rictus, stepped back smoothly out of range. Then she unleashed the dog. She gave it a sharp command, it barked once and sprang for his throat.

[to be continued]

Photo credit: here

Disclaimer: this work of fan fiction is not for sale. It makes use of the characters Chen Zai Tian (Pizi) and Wu Ying Xiong from the 2009 Taiwanese police drama series Black & White, 痞子英雄, Pi Zi Ying Xiong, as broadcast on PTS/TVBS-G.
These characters were portrayed by Vic ‘Zai Zai’ Zhou and Mark Zhao in the series. This piece of fan fiction is totally unrelated, and makes no reference whatsoever, to the actors in real life.
Series Production credits:
•    Producer: Yu Xiao Hui 于小惠, Tsai Yueh Hsun
* Director: Tsai Yueh Hsun
* Screenwriters: Wu Luo Ying 吳絡纓, Chen Hui Ru 陳慧如
•    Box set of DVDs: www.prajnaworks.com

Fan fiction rating: M. Drug references, adult themes.

Spoilers: Do not read this fan fiction until you have seen the entire series.

Genre: slash

Pairing: Wu Ying Xiong slash Chen Zai Tian (Pizi)

Type: Multi-episode

***** ***** *****

Ying Xiong and the Perfect Stranger, Part 1

A cold and penetrating rain fell as Wu Ying Xiong strode along a main street in the Xinyi district. Recently, the young police detective had been granted two week’s vacation and he had come to the northern capital to visit his colleague, Hao Ke, the office’s nerdish but likeable young IT specialist. Hao Ke was now in a convalescent facility in the picturesque mountainous outskirts of the city, recovering from gunshot wounds. Ying Xiong held himself personally responsible for the trap into which the young officer had walked during the course of a previous case, and he was eager to see him. Meanwhile, however, he had been assigned a further, urgent task: to meet an informant somewhere on the main thoroughfare he was now exploring on foot.

That morning Ying Xiong had no sooner turned his white SUV onto the coastal highway to head north when his brilliant but flamboyant partner, Chen Zai Tian, had summoned him back to police headquarters for a meeting. Zai Tian, nicknamed Pizi, was now the chief of the southern district anti-drugs task force to which he himself was assigned, and he had a disturbing report to pass on. Gao Yi, the deranged drug lord who had once terrorized the metro in their southern port city, had escaped from the psychiatric facility where his fitness to stand trial was being assessed. Zai Tian said that although over the last few days there had been a few reliable sightings of the criminal first in Manila and later in Bangkok, he suspected that it would not be long before he returned to his usual territory. Although Gao Yi’s connections and supply and distribution routes knew no borders, he had a history of never straying very far from home.

Ying Xiong was well aware that his partner often used his strange and uncanny proclivity for electronic devices to help him solve cases, so he was not surprised to hear that only the night before Zai Tian had received new, vital information about the drug lord through his favorite fax machine. This legendary device was installed not in his office but in a bar that stayed open late. While once again praising the reliability of the tips received through the machine, Zai Tian had suddenly stepped forward to drape his arm over his friend’s shoulder to whisper conspiratorially in his ear.

Since his promotion as head of the squad, Ying Xiong had noted that Zai Tian had ceased wearing the white tropical attire that had so irritated his superiors and that had made him look like the playboy son of a major tea planter. That morning he was wearing dark slacks, a grey button-up shirt and a black tie. His mocking, insinuating manner was as annoying as ever, though.

One of Pizi’s worst habits, Ying Xiong considered, was that he was always invading his friends’ personal space. He shuddered at the sudden memory of their tension filled first meeting with San Lian Hui boss, Lao Tou, in his living quarters in the penthouse of the gang’s downtown building. Ordered to take a seat in front of a Japanese style barbeque plate, the partners were unsure whether the crime boss was going to cook them a steak or unveil an instrument of torture. Ying Xiong, determined to make the police position on  a number of issues very clear, had just begun to speak up when he realised that Pizi had leaned against him and was holding his hand, their fingers entwined. He gave him a severe look and shoved his hand away, managing, he hoped, to retrieve some dignity in the interview.

Today he ducked under his friend’s arm as Zai Tian smiled benignly and reported that according to the fax, an informant based in the capital was prepared to pass on some new information about Gao Yi. Then, ignoring his partner’s current off duty status, he had blithely assigned him to meet the contact somewhere along Xinyi Street. ‘You’re going up there anyway,’ he explained in his husky, ironic voice. ‘Give my regards to Hao Ke.’

By now, though, Ying Xiong had walked up and down the appointed block a few times and had met no one. With the heavy rain there were few pedestrians about and he felt he might look conspicuous. There was a new rush of rain and a biting wind sprang up. He pulled the hood of his waterproof jacket to  cover more of his face. Devoid of personal vanity, he was unaware that the hood highlighted his high cheekbones and his startling, single lidded ‘Korean’ eyes, while giving him an air of penitential melancholy.

But where was the informant? Momentarily, the young police officer wondered if he had taken a wrong turn. It struck him as strange that after his two years’ secondment to an international police agency in New York City, he knew some of the neighborhoods of the five boroughs better than this district of his own nation’s capital. The wind now swept the rain into a fierce diagonal, further staining the drab sides of office and apartment buildings already showing signs of wear and tear from the typhoons of many seasons. Then the wind parted the mist enough for him to get hisbearings—there in front of him was the capital’s iconic skyscraper, for a few years the tallest building in the world. Even now its telecommunications mast disappeared into the rain clouds, subject up there, he supposed, to its own micro-climate.

Ying Xiong decided to step out of the rain under the awning of a small clothing boutique specializing in Japanese imports. He paused in front of a tray of discounted items and idly turned over a green girls’ T-shirt emblazoned with the cheerful slogan ‘Kawaii’. Would Chen Lin like it, he mused, his thoughts turning idly to Lao Tou’s daughter.

Suddenly, someone grabbed his elbow and spoke rapidly in the jarring consonants of Cantonese. He turned to see a sallow, acne-scarred youth only a few years younger than himself. The boy had fierce black eyes and a compelling expression. Although his grasp of the language no more than moderate, Ying Xiong managed to catch a reference to Gao Yi and and the designer hallucinogen, Dreamer. This must be the informant.

‘Have you seen Gao Yi?’ he whispered in Mandarin. ‘Has he set up a new factory?’

With an ugly sneer, the boy broke into broad American English. ‘Gao Yi is around here somewhere, who knows where. But you don’t get it, do you? After you guys busted up his big plant down south, he’s not going to be in a hurry to set up another one up here. You’d just track him down through his electricity bill again. So he’s broken up the whole cartel into all these little Mom and Pop operations-‘

‘Where are the main ones?’ Ying Xiong interjected in English. ‘Up here or in the south?’

‘There aren’t any main ones,’ said his respondent scornfully. ‘There are little ones all over the place. Close one down and another one will spring up. Maybe they pool some of the shipments, but who knows? There sure is some high quality stuff around. So see what turns up on the street and watch the airports. We heard maybe they’ll be using wai guo ren posing as tourists as mules.’

With this the boy turned on his heel and disappeared around the corner into a nearby alley.

Ying Xiong hit the encryption device on his mobile phone and texted through this sparse information to Zai Tian. He added his own interpretation: it was possible that Gao Yi was indeed in the north and the Hong Kong triads were interested in informing on an new operator moving into their territory—not that they had had much information to impart at this stage. Of course, it was also possible that despite his use of Cantonese the youth did not represent Hong Kong at all. He might be a member of the local branch of San Lian Hui. The criminal organization’s shifting allegiances and degree of willingness to work with the police were always hard to gauge. And was Gao Yi trying to export some of his deadly product overseas? The reference to foreign tourists certainly bore further investigation.

An hour later when Ying Xiong stepped into Hao Ke’s room in the specialist convalescence facility, he found him lying in bed on top of the quilt with his hands folded across his chest. His face had taken on a marmoreal pallor, as if he were a statue on the lid of a sarcophagus.

[To be continued]

A photo published in Overdope Online Magazine on 7 October showed four members of now disbanded Jungiery Stars singing act 183 Club posing together at a recent promotional event. This pic quickly reignited rumours of a reunion concert by the much loved Taiwanese boyband. Although it is now more than two long years since the expulsion of high octane but troubled lead singer, Jacky Zhu, over a conviction and a prison sentence for marijuana use, rumours of his reinstatement in the group have never entirely died away. Asian Fanatics stalwart, Mingdee, recently reported on the band’s  AF thread that in an interview earlier in the year Ming Dao might have unintentionally given the stories additional credibility. When asked about 183 Club and casting around for something to say that would not be too critical of Jacky, he said he favoured the idea of a reunion concert to mark the tenth or fifteenth anniversary of the group’s formation. (The tenth anniversary would be in 2012 or 13).

Johnny Yan, Ehlo Huang, Jacky Zhu and Ming Dao pose at a Nike launch party.

Of course since the breakup there have been photos of the boys in various combinations before now circulating on fan forums and in the blogosphere, including one or two of Ming Dao, Ehlo Huang Yu Rong and Sam Wang Shao Wei at a J-star dinner. What made this one different was that it included black sheep Jacky, now signed with Tangerine Entertainment, standing in his customary place between Ming Dao and second lead singer, Ehlo Huang. (The member missing that day was Sam Wang Shao Wei: neveridol does not know why he was not present).

Sadly, the reunion concert rumours have so far proved entirely groundless. So what was Jacky doing there with the other boys? Part of the answer may lie in his close association with basketball and his well-known predilection for sports shoes. The event in question was the launch of the Jordan Melo M6 Mens’ Basketball Shoe. Apparently, this high tech footwear is only sold through official Nike stores, and the event where the stars were photographed was the launch party of the shoe at the Taipei branch. Jacky, although his comeback as a singer and his creation of a still- cool-but-now-respectable status is well advanced, probably gained his entrée to the launch party through an unusual recent gig.

Culture broker: Jacky Zhu co-hosts a basketball based reality TV show with NBA legend Baron Davis.

In July, the versatile idol, who is fluent in English, Mandarin and Cantonese, hosted five episodes of a reality television show, each based in a different Chinese city. The series was produced by the NBA and Chinese promoters, after the US organisation noted a GFC-related decline in match attendance and merchandising sales in the US. To gain traction in the vast Chinese market where the game is very popular, the NBA arranged matches between teams of young Chinese hopefuls. NBA legends such as Shaquille O’Neill and Baron Davis were also on the scene, but I am uncertain whether they actually took to the court or not. The prize for the Chinese player who  accumulated the most points at the end of a series of matches (there were more than one hundred in all) was a flight to the US and an opportunity  to train with an NBA development league.

Jacky, who plays basketball regularly with a league in Hong Kong, reported on his blog his excitement at meeting his NBA idols. He professed himself to be less keen, however, on the telehosting experience, saying all the talking made his voice hoarse. He admitted he preferred singing. A photo from one of the shows caught him admiring a pair of formidable looking basketball shoes– but not the actual Nike Melo M6 only recently the subject of the Taipei launch.

Thus in the ongoing story of the rise and sudden demise of 183 Club there is nothing more substantial to report than that the news that the publication of the photo attracted a lot of interest among the group’s vestigial fanbase. Neveridol suspects that an adventurous entrepreneur could probably make a profit by staging a one-off reunion concert, to convert the boys’ obvious nostalgia at being seen together again and substantial lingering fangirl enthusiasm into a realistic business proposition. 183 Club were funny and warm practitioners of very pleasant mainstream Mandopop and there are still fans out there who remember them fondly.

Image credits: 1 and 2-3.

On Friday morning on my way in to an occupation that a character in one of Peter Temple’s Jack Irish novels once called ‘the pearl/swine interface’, I spotted an intermediate egret on the steep embankment that leads up to the Winifred Street parklands. There was narrow rivulet of water running down into the creek proper, and the great bird was intent on that. He or she hardly paid me any notice as I approached as close as I could by clambering down the opposite bank.

About ten years ago, we would often see an intermediate egret somewhere along the creek between the Arthurton Road bridge and the Ida Street hill, but this is the first one I’ve seen recently. I’d love to think there was a nesting pair around.

An intermediate egret. Photo credit: Rami Misrachi

My nature photography being what it is, I am also including a professional image of an intermediate egret. They are a beautiful and stately bird. I was thrilled to see one after a hiatus of so many years.

Last week I perused editions of the Northcote Leader from 1909 and a few supplementary photos from the City of Darebin Libraries historical collection. Not surprisingly, one of the things I found out was that many more horses were used for transportation in Northcote  one hundred years ago than they are today. I had remembered seeing a number of clever stable conversions in Northcote and Westgarth and on Saturday I set out determined to photograph a few of them.

A stable conversion in Westgarth

This one features a garage or workshop with living space above. Below is a second one, also in Westgarth but closer to High Street, where entry is via a bluestone lane.

For many years, horses also travelled Northcote’s lanes, pulling the nightcarts that  collected excrement from the suburb’s backyard dunnies. The bluestone for this Northcote lane (above) was almost certainly quarried from the great Wales Quarry just over the creek in Brunswick, which was open for a hundred years from the 1860s.

A bluestone lane in Northcote

Today lanes are interesting and mysterious places to explore on foot, quite different in character from the made roadways used by motorised vehicles.

There is a novel by A. S. Byatt that as I recall begins something like this: a scholar looks up from his work to glance out a dirty, dust-obscured window. It suddenly strikes him that this is not a metaphor for an inability to see or comprehend some idea: it is literally a dirty window. This moment of insight leads him to investigate the world in more practical and grounded ways which (if memory serves me) eventually include a study of new DNA-based classification systems for plants and animals that have superseded Linnaeus. Unlike A. S. Byatt’s protagonist, however, I’m gong to resort to a metaphorical window.

Yesterday on a whim I decided I would like to know more about Northcote one hundred years ago. I made haste to the State Library of Victoria to read the Northcote Leader on microfilm—to use that venerable weekly newspaper as a window on century-old terrain. With the 20th century having been notorious for the rapid and irregularly felt pace of change of many kinds, I felt certain of being confronted by many things that looked different back then, from perhaps trivial details of clothing to other signifiers of major shifts in values and attitudes. I also wanted to stay alert, however, for elements like place names, topography, streetscapes, organisations and institutions that might provide continuities with the present.
Drawing primarily upon a handful of editions of the Leader from January and September, 1909, and a few complementary photos from the Darebin Library’s local history collection I found that yes, among other things, Northcotians were much more meat-eating, hat –wearing, privately-tailored and horse-owning than we are today.

The front page of the Leader in those days was covered in ads, many with lettering in fancy fonts and sketches by way of illustration. Several butchers located along High Street advertised regularly, one of them a branch of the famous William Angliss Family Butchers. Another butcher, H. Adams, at 322 High Street, emphasised the health angle while striking a proletarian note: ‘The workingman must have nourishing food. Do not be misled. Avoid poor meat, buy the best!’ Adams also flaunted  his technological sophistication by listing his telephone number: Brunswick 441.

There are still butchers in High Street today, including a Lebanese halal premises, and there are at least two more in the Plaza, but my guess is that in the vegetarian heartland there are fewer per head of population, and in promotional material they only rarely, and in the spirit of a backlash, uphold the health-giving qualities of red meat and breakfast sausages. One butcher I know said that families are far less likely than even twenty years ago to come in and order several kilos of barbeque chops and sausages but that white meat, gourmet and ethnic items such as kebabs and marinated chicken wings are popular.

The town of Northcote becomes a city in May 1914.

In September 1909, spring was coming—will warm weather ever arrive this year?—and a multitude of milliners, drapers, tailors and dressmakers all advertised their new spring lines. Women today can of course still buy hats. Scally & Trombone in Brunswick Street, Fitzroy, for example, always has an attractive and sometimes whimsical range the year round, and especially now as the Spring Racing Carnival approaches. In sharp contrast with the 1914 photo (above), however, I predict that even in winter, male spectators, at a street parade like the one in the photo would be virtually hatless, except, perhaps for a few football beanies. In a photograph in today’s Sunday Age of fans in the stands at yesterday’s bitterly cold and rainy AFL Grand Final, except for beanie-wearers, all the men were hatless. Hats for men tend to be associated with old-fashioned ways and maybe, with thespian or general bohemian tendencies.

Of course here are still dressmakers in High Street: Vicky at Déjà Vu makes to measure for women and children across a varied demographic. But with the gradual removal of tariff protection of the local rag trade from the 1980s, and the advent of China as the sweat shop to the world, almost everyone today is wearing some items of mass produced clothing made overseas.

There were a few automobiles in Northcote before the war, and you can see a proud line-up of them, like parade floats, signalling modernity in the street parade photo. However, judging by a great number of ads relating to horse-drawn vehicles and horses (and extant stable conversions), wealthier Northcote residents owned a horse or two and sometimes went about in carriages. This was despite the proximity of the train line from the City to Preston and a Council-operated tramway running along High Street itself. A. Fellowes, with a factory just opposite the Croxton Station, advertised as a coach builder and shoeing forge. Perhaps in the face of trade that was already at the climacteric, he offered service: if you dropped your horse off, his assistants would return it to you, reshod. Meanwhile, German-born Carl Oldenburg, had a workshop at 365 High Street, where he made saddles, harnesses and collars.

The cable tram engine house in High Street, Thornbury, now a garage

But what about other differences? And were there continuities that have carried on until the present day? In next week’s post, neveridol will peer through the window again to try to find out to what extent the people of Northcote conformed to our general notion of the post-Federation years as monocultural, jingoistic and constrained by gender roles.

Image credits: 1 and 2.

It’s more than two weeks since the genuine anniversary of neveridol on 1 September, but this is close enough and I’m going to quote today’s stats: 9, 972 hits, 210 comments, 58 posts, 20 categories and 287 tags. Writing a blog is very self-indulgent and asking my regular readers to pore over my statistics with me is doubly so, but that’s not going to stop me. What were my top posts, I hear you ask.

My top post:Police investigator Wu Ying Xiong (Mark Zhao) prepares to go undercover in the stylish police drama series Black & White.

Neveridol rode the great wave of popularity of the stylish, well acted but cryptically plotted Taiwanese television police procedural, Pizi Ying Xiong (literally, Ruffian Hero, but known in English as Black & White) to the top of a wave that has only peaked recently. My review of the first four episode of the series, greatly enhanced by some screen captures courtesy of V, has to date received an astonishing 759 hits. I quickly followed up on this successful post with a profile of dashing actor Mark Zhao You Ting (above), who made his acting debut in the series as the eponymous Ying Xiong. This post also proved popular, with 579 hits.

In the review, I mentioned the alarming performance of Kingone Wang as the deranged drug lord Gao Yi, and reported that there had been discussion in the blogosphere and on fan forums comparing his work in the series favourably with that of the late Heath Ledger in his Oscar-winning role as the Joker in last year’s Batman sequel. I was gratified to hear recently that not only have Black & White’s two leads, Mark Zhao andVic ‘Zai Zai’ Zhou, been nominated for Golden Bell awards, but so has Kingone Wang for his supporting role. I’m pleased I flagged him early on as one to watch.

Ranking between the two posts about Black & White, however, was an interloping post, one I dashed off when I admitted I was suffering from end-of-term fatigue: my satiric review of teen idol Danson Tang’s new album. This post has had 623 hits to date. The article was not even in praise of the idol. I didn’t like his second album as much as his pleasant first effort, Ai Wo. Some readers missed my intent, though, and seemed to think the review was a straightforward, adulatory profile. An Indonesian girl who was then calling herself Dinda Full plagiarised it, retaining the text but adding her own images. I tracked her down via Facebook and at my behest she obligingly removed the plagiarised version from her blog. We are now FaceBook friends. Go figure, as they say in the States.

Danson Tang looked sultry in a prep school blazer in the MV for Intelligence.

Re-reading the Danson post, I was amazed at how salacious it was. I considered toning it down, but wait, my series on Taiwanese popular culture is about fandom, and an over-heated quality in descriptions of the idols is all part of the territory. Just as I suspected, when I once again ventured into mildly racy territory with my Shirtless, Shameless post and another, Slash & Burn, in which I hinted that there ‘slash’ potential in some TW dramas, both of these scored very well in my stats and are still running strong, drawing hits and appreciative comments.

In fact, one of the great satisfactions of writing this blog has been the the sense of being part of an borderless electronic community. Readers from many parts of the globe have linked with Neveridol, and some have also left wonderful, insightful comments. Rob, an English fan of Time Team, who knew archaeologist Helen Geake when they were both at university, weighed in with a provocative comment about the contrived nature of the series: ‘Only three days to find out!’ Soon some local friends with backgrounds in archaeology jumped aboard with increasingly outlandish responses and kept this thread running for a long while. My review of the Best of Time Team box set was my highest scoring non-Taiwanese post, with 224 hits.

Of my local posts, the most unintentionally inflammatory–and hence the most popular– was my scathing review of a lack of service at Julio’s café in North Fitzroy. I am pleased to report that recently there has been a rapprochement between the café and the neighbouring secondary school. I’ve heard on the grapevine that Room 10 has been sending a staff member or two over to collect a coffee order from Julio’s about twice a week. This system is apparently working well with goodwill all around. Has the hatchet been buried?

Now to the Oscar Acceptance Speech part of the post: Thanks to my regular readers like D and G, who loyally read my blog every week even when the subject of the latest post is of no interest to them at all. And my profound gratitude goes to my translators, EW, JT and CC, who have nobly translated numerous trashy tabloid articles and blog posts in traditional characters so I can bring my idols’ updates to an English-speaking readership. Xie xie nimen!!! And last but not least (I do love a clichéd phrase), thanks to my blogging mentor, V, who urged me to start neveridol in the first place and who has provided me with invaluable and ongoing technical assistance and moral support ever since. Readers, you can check out V’s adventures in Shanghai here.

Meanwhile, diis volentibus, I plan to continue to post on a variety of topics once a week, so you are all cordially invited to drop in to  read and comment. I just heard via Hong Ju Zi Fans that a new soap, River Lovers, starring Leon Jay Williams, has just wrapped, and there has to be a post in that, right?

Image credits: 1 and 2.

Neveridol is currently on holiday and the usual weekend post will be delayed for a day or two. It’s will be the first anniversary post. I think few readers of my series on Taiwanese popular culture will be surprised to hear that my most popular posts overall were my review of the stylish police series Black & White and my satiric profile on teen idol Danson Tang.

Watch this space!

Meanwhile, come and check out friendly and vibrant fan forum Hong Ju Zi Fans!

I was speaking to friends about Melbourne’s Latin mottoes recently and I came out with the old story about the motto of the City of Melbourne, vires acquirit eundo. Loosely translated it means, ‘We gather strength as we go’. Apparently, the original allusion had nothing to do with a burgeoning boomtown like 19th century Melbourne but instead it was a reference to the Goddess Rumour, whose wicked whisperings did indeed gain in virulence as they did the rounds.

Well, Rumour is at work again in the Taiwanese enterntainment press. There is a story circulating at the moment that Jungiery Stars heavyweights Ming Dao and Sam Wang are not going to renew their contracts at the end of the year. Where Sam Wang is concerned, neveridol had definitely seen this coming. We had previously reported the satisfaction with which in December 2008 the idol had opened a very pleasant-looking bakery café in an upmarket outer suburb of Taipei. Photos from Baidu had shown the dual boyband member dressed very casually, squeegying around the outside of the premises with great proprietorial pride.

Sam Wang opens his first Uncle Sam's in December 2008.

And then there was that appearance in January this year on Bai Wan Da Ge Xing, Taiwan’s version of Don’t Forget the Lyrics, as Sam joined his erstwhile 183 Club colleague, Jacky Zhu, as a celebrity participant. Jacky, looking keen and determined to add substance to his comeback, sang with great technical assurance and flair and reached level 7. Sam sang offhandedly and crashed in the first round, but treated this loss with great good humour. He was wearing his Uncle Sam’s Bakery Café t-shirt: he himself had designed the logo.

Jacky Zhu (left) and Sam Wang appear together on a variety show in January 2009.

In June, Taiwan Fun magazine reported that Sam had opened a second branch of Uncle Sam’s in Yitong Street in downtown Taipei. The cafe’s American style burgers on kaiser rolls and a variety of hot bread baked on the premises have apparently become popular with both locals and expats alike. In an interview on 9 September, when the idol was asked about the contract severance rumours, he confirmed, ‘Right now I’m putting my food business first.’

It ’s quite possible that these rumours of departure from the J-stars are simply a standard maneouvre in the idols’ contract negotiation period. If Sam does retreat from entertainment world entirely, however, neveridol will miss him. Although never a great singer in either of his Jungiery boybands, the still extant 5566 and the long lost 183 Club, Sam was always a genial, funny and stylish presence. A former member of Taiwan’s national soccer team, he was also a lithe and athletic dancer.

Moreover, some of his acting roles showed unexpected depths of feeling. Perhaps his most memorable part was Richie, a high fashion hairdresser, in Love Magician. In the course of the drama Richie found his deep attraction and ultimate engagement to Xiao Bei (Joanne Zeng) threatened by the machinations of his Hong Kong triad stepfather and the arrival on the scene of a love child he did not know he had. His final confrontation with Xiao Bei, while the 183 Club power ballad Affective Line played on the soundtrack, was a superlative moment in the annals of TW romantic melodrama.

Sam Wang plays a hairdresser in the television drama series Love Magician.

Perhaps Rumour has it wrong and Sam will eventually sign on with the J-stars again, perhaps restricting his appearances, as he currently does, to only a few a year. In any event, let another goddess take charge of his choices: Dea Fortuna.

For lively and friendly discussions about Tangerine artists like Joanne Zeng and Jacky Zhu and  ‘other’ idols like Sam Wang, Ming Dao and their Jungiery contract issue, visit Hong Ju Zi Fans.

Interview translation credit: minchong92 @ http://asianfanatics.net

Image credits: 1 and 2 and 3.