Pariah among the nations

Taiwan | Anno 2013

 

Monday, April 1 | Taipei

Tuesday, April 2 | Taipei – Sun Moon Lake

Wednesday, April 3 | Sun Moon Lake – 921 Earthquake Museum – Alishan

Thursday, April 4 | Alishan National Forest – Jade Mountain

 

 

Monday, April 1 | Taipei

Dawn is just breaking as we begin our descent over the dark continent. Yet the thermometers at Suvarnabhumi Airport already read 29 °C (84 °F). For the muggy Bangkok, that’s nothing unusual; meanwhile, we still vividly recall the snowflakes drifting down over Schiphol this morning. The layover doesn’t last long, though. Barely two hours later, the Airbus A340-300 from China Airlines is back in the air, this time heading for Taipei, the capital of Taiwan.

China considers Taiwan a breakaway province and doesn't miss a chance to put obstacles in the way

Flying directly from Schiphol to Taipei is not an option. China considers Taiwan a breakaway province and doesn't miss a chance to put obstacles in the way. Access to Chinese airspace is something China Airlines cannot rely on. After all, China Airlines is the national airline of Taiwan. Consequently, we are forced to fly a wide detour around China, including a stopover in Bangkok – a diversion of over 2 300 kilometres.

 

Taipei 101

Such skirmishes are part of daily life in Taiwan. The animosity between the two countries can be traced back to the struggle for leadership in post-war China. General Chiang Kai-shek was defeated by Mao Zedong’s communists and fled to the island of Formosa – now Taiwan – in 1949, taking two million followers with him. He established an authoritarian and corrupt regime, maintained a state of emergency for nearly forty years, and suppressed any political opposition through terror. Yet many Taiwanese still view him as a hero, not only for his resistance against Japanese occupation and the communist takeover but also for laying the foundation for the country's dominant economic and technological position. By the 1980s, Made in Taiwan had become a global term.

Dutifully, we undergo passport control, aware that by doing so, we are making a political statement, as we are implicitly recognising Taiwan as a sovereign state

This economic success has not prevented the Taiwanese from living both literally and figuratively on an island. In the early 1970s, Nixon and Kissinger sought rapprochement with China in hopes of improving relations and more easily ending the Vietnam War. As a side effect, Taiwan’s membership in the United Nations was lost. In 1971, the People's Republic of China was recognised as the sole legitimate representative of all of China. From then on, Taiwan no longer existed – at least not as a sovereign state. The Taiwanese continued to refer to themselves as the Republic of China, even though they received almost no recognition for it. You will hardly find foreign embassies in Taiwan. Only 26 countries recognise Taiwan, most of which are small island nations in the Caribbean and the South Pacific – from Kiribati to Saint Kitts and Nevis.

 

Taipei – Keelung River with Dazhi Bridge

Today, the Taiwanese live with 23 million people on an island that is barely a quarter larger than Belgium. Most of the interior is covered with high, densely forested mountains, and earthquakes are an everyday occurrence. The population is forced to crowd into the coastal plains, loves hot springs and technological innovation, excels in civic discipline, and exhibits a cleanliness obsession that borders on mysophobia. In short, Taiwan is a kind of Japan with Chinese inhabitants.

Just before one o’clock, we land in the misty Taoyuan, about 45 km from the capital, Taipei, in the northern part of the island. The time difference with Belgium is now six hours. Thick clouds have enveloped the capital, but it is not raining.

By the 1980s, Made in Taiwan had become a global term

Drug trafficking is punishable by death. That is the very first message we read in the airport building. Clearly, they don't mince their words here. Dutifully, we undergo passport control, aware that by doing so, we are making a political statement, as we are implicitly recognising Taiwan as a sovereign state.

Holding a yellow flag, a man in his fifties awkwardly waves in our direction. Horng-Chiao Tung turns out to be his name. That’s much too difficult for us, he decides, we should just call him Charles. That’s something we'll have to get used to the coming days, the way he makes decisions for us. But I'm not married to Diana, he adds with a grin, referring to the famous royal couple. We’ll have to get used to that too, those old-fashioned jokes. For the next two weeks, this self-proclaimed joker will be our tour guide.

 

In short, Taiwan is a kind of Japan with Chinese inhabitants

Outside in the parking lot, a VW Caravelle van is waiting for us. The broad-smiling driver welcomes us with spontaneous and heartfelt pantomime, as he is not proficient in English. Gradually, he will reveal himself to be a friendly, always helpful, but rather inscrutable and taciturn guy. Even Charles doesn't know his name, which doesn’t stop him from decreeing that we will henceforth call the man Mr. Pen.

Are you hungry? Charles asks as we leave the airport behind. No, we reply; we’ve already had two breakfasts on the plane this morning, and our stomachs are completely full. Apparently, that answer doesn’t matter much, as three minutes later we stop at City Suites restaurant for an elaborate lunch.

The amount of food that appears at our table in rapid succession seems endless. Charles meticulously observes each of our movements. No bite, no sip, no glance, and no cough escapes his notice. It’s a relief for him to see that we can handle chopsticks, but when plates remain untouched for too long, he becomes deeply concerned.

There is no reason for concern since there was only one casualty to lament

In the meantime, he brings up last week's earthquake as a conversation starter – 6,3 on the Richter scale, with the epicentre in central Taiwan. Coincidentally, that’s the area we have scheduled for our program in the coming days. However, he reassuringly adds that there is no reason for concern since there was only one casualty to lament.

 

Taipei – Scooters dominate the streets

We bravely continue and manage to give every dish the honour it deserves. When we finally set down the chopsticks for good, there’s still more than enough food left on the table to feed a volleyball team.

Charles immediately wants to take us on a cultural tour, but we’re not in the mood for that at the moment. A visit to our hotel room, even just for a moment, would do us good. He can understand that.

Taiwan has the lowest birth rate in the world, he explains, not entirely without exaggeration, while Mister Pen heads toward Taipei. The cost of living and the price of housing are partly to blame for this, but also the fact that women are increasingly prioritising their careers and postponing marriage.

In fact, Taipei is situated in a basin surrounded by mountains. The city itself has 2,7 million inhabitants. If you include the metropolitan area around the capital, the number rises to 7 million. We immediately notice that many streets are named after cities in mainland China, such as Chongqing, Nanjing, and Chang’an. Charles calls it a form of nostalgia from Chiang Kai-shek.

In contrast to the People’s Republic, Taiwan still uses the traditional characters of the Chinese script on the street signs, rather than the simplified ones. A nuance that had obviously escaped us.

 

No matter where you stand in Taipei, it's hard to miss. The delicate silhouette of Taipei 101 is omnipresent

No matter where you stand in Taipei, it's hard to miss. The delicate silhouette of Taipei 101 is omnipresent. They are extremely proud of it, as it's currently the second tallest tower in the world. Its tip reaches a staggering 508 meters above the ground. And this in a country plagued by earthquakes. Taiwan may be an international pariah, but the confidence in their own abilities is incredibly strong. Today, however, the graceful concrete needle is barely distinguishable in the mist above the city. As if to welcome us, the sun briefly peeks through the clouds.

Just before three, Mister Pen drops us off at the hotel in the Zhongzheng District. Half an hour later, we're out exploring again.

 

Taipei Station

The imposing architecture of the massive Taipei Station seems to have come straight out of a communist era, but inside, it’s capitalism that reigns supreme. This is the nerve centre where the high-speed train, the regular train, and the metro converge – or the HSR, TRA, and MRT as they are called here. The hustle and bustle are just as intense. Charles leads us through the immense ticket hall and the hectic corridors, under flashy information panels, and past the many shops and eateries. On the platforms, passengers wait neatly between the lines for the train, some wearing white masks – almost as Japanese as it gets.

On the platforms, passengers wait neatly between the lines for the train, some wearing white masks – almost as Japanese as it gets

Bannan Line Metro Station

The ride on the blue Bannan Line, number 5, is mainly intended as an introduction. Just two stops later, in Longshan, the only trip we will take on public transportation in Taiwan comes to an end. As soon as you exit, you can tell there's a significant temple above ground here. Numerous shops sell items for offerings and prayers. Part of the underground passageway is set up as a makeshift massage area. The blind are allowed to massage customers here to earn some money. For the equivalent of five euros, you can enjoy a twenty-minute massage under the watchful eyes of commuters rushing past.

 

Longshan Temple – Mountain Gate

The Longshan Temple, or Dragon Mountain Temple, dates back to 1738. It has fallen victim to earthquakes and fires several times, yet it has been rebuilt each time. On May 31, 1945, it was even targeted by American bombers because the Japanese were allegedly hiding weapons there.

 

Gatehouse with dragon gate and tiger gate

Through the Mountain Gate, we enter the temple complex. A fairly high, artificial waterfall symbolises the concept of purification. According to Charles, you should always enter a temple through the dragon gate and exit through the tiger gate. These are, respectively, the left and right gates of the next gatehouse. We remain cautious, as we have already learned that Charles has a habit of saying left while pointing to something on our right, and vice versa.

Koji pottery is now considered a unique element of Taiwanese temple architecture

Kochi pottery

Worship of Guanyin

At both ends, the roof of the temple gate fans out in the typical shape of a swallow’s tail. Gaudy, multicoloured figurines crowd along the ridge and corners of the roof – human figures, animals, birds, flowers. This is Koji pottery, a specific type of glazed ceramic. It originally developed in southern China and only made its way to Taiwan in the 18th century with immigrants. However, it is now considered a unique element of Taiwanese temple architecture.

 

Guanyin

In the inner courtyard, there is an overwhelming yet serene bustle. Here, Guanyin is worshipped. In Taiwan's Buddhist pantheon, she ranks as the most popular deity. In fact, she represents the Chinese version of Avalokiteshvara, the bodhisattva of compassion. That Guanyin is depicted as a woman is quite surprising, as she was originally seen as a man. The shift must have occurred somewhere between the 8th and 10th centuries. Why and how that change happened is unknown.

Religion in Taiwan is a complex matter. Every visitor practises their own eclectic synthesis amidst the many dozens of deity statues

However, this is not solely a Buddhist sanctuary. As in the vast majority of temples in Taiwan, according to Charles, there is a mix of three religions – Buddhism, Taoism, and folk devotion. Religion in Taiwan is a complex matter. Every visitor practises their own eclectic synthesis amidst the many dozens of deity statues. But that doesn’t diminish the intensity of their devotion. Today, there are fifteen thousand temples in Taiwan – about one temple for every 1 500 people, which is three times as many as thirty years ago. Secularisation is not a concern here.

 

Today, there are fifteen thousand temples in Taiwan – about one temple for every 1 500 people

Worship of Guanyin

Almost shoulder to shoulder, people are standing, either praying or singing rhythmically together. Even Charles doesn’t understand what’s happening. As a Christian, he isn’t familiar with the Buddhist calendar. After asking around, he learns that today is the Buddha’s birthday, which explains the crowd.

 

Offerings

The scent of incense offerings rises from enormous bronze incense burners. Offerings are displayed on long tables – water, oil, flowers, fruit, sweets, and even Ferrero Rocher chocolates. But always vegetarian. On the right stands the bell tower, and on the left, the drum tower – the former used to ring in the morning, and the latter in the afternoon.

 

 

With their prayer book in hand, people are singing, performing ritual bows, and kneeling with their foreheads touching the ground. Others murmur prayers with burning incense sticks held in their clasped hands or burn fake banknotes as ghost money for their ancestors.

We’ll grow to appreciate the clattering sound of bwa bwei falling on a temple’s stone floor as one of the most authentic aspects of a Taiwanese temple

Still others seek advice from the gods using bwa bwei. First, they burn an incense stick for their favourite deity and take a fortune stick from a stack. Then, they throw two red wooden crescent-shaped blocks – bwa bwei – multiple times onto the floor in front of the deity's statue. If both blocks land on their rounded sides, it means you’ve asked a silly question, one the god cannot answer – you must ask a different question. If both blocks land on their flat sides, the fortune stick you’ve just taken is incorrect – you need to draw a different one. Only when both blocks land on opposite sides three times in a row is the answer written on the fortune stick considered correct. In the coming days, we’ll grow to appreciate the clattering sound of bwa bwei falling on a temple’s stone floor as one of the most authentic aspects of a Taiwanese temple.

 

Chapel of Guanyin

At the back of the temple, we encounter a few more remarkable figures from the bizarre pantheon of the Taiwanese. One of the shrines is dedicated to Kui Xing, the literary god. In the past, he was the patron saint of those taking imperial exams. Even today, it is wise to stop by and pay him a visit with a prayer or an offering whenever you face an exam yourself. Another shrine is dedicated to the Wang Ye, the warrior gods – partly historical, partly mythical figures.

 

Kui Xing

Matsu

But the most important shrine is dedicated to Matsu, the Empress of Heaven. Popular devotion assigns her a variety of roles, such as protecting fishermen, supporting women during childbirth, and restoring social order. For Taiwan, she is by far the most important deity; she is the patroness of the island and also a national symbol.

Satisfied, we leave the lively temple complex. In the past, the neighbouring Bo-Pi-Liao was a red-light district; it is said that the buildings still exude a certain authenticity. Our question surprises Charles a bit. He is willing to take a look, but emphasises that there are no longer any prostitutes – as if he wants to strip us of any illusions. Unfortunately, the same unfortunate trend is continuing in Taiwan as on the mainland. Traditional neighbourhoods are not restored but rebuilt with contemporary materials. The result is a sterile environment where authenticity is hard to find.

Occasionally, a gust of wind parts the cloud cover, revealing glimpses of the enormous city of lights beneath us

Taipei 101

In the west, the sun is slowly setting. There's no better place to enjoy it than on Taipei 101, the tower that rises like a gigantic knitting needle above the capital. However, the evening traffic jams throw a wrench in the works. With considerable delay, we hurry through the posh shopping centre at the foot of the tower, where the Armanis, Swarovskis, Rolexes, and Chanels of this planet showcase their displays in grand style.

 

Taipei 101 – Shopping Mall

The lifts are busy as hell. It’s going to be a long wait. We can forget about that sunset. We have the mainlanders to thank for this. Since regular flights between Taiwan and the People's Republic were allowed in 2008, this place has been flooded with tourists from the Chinese mainland, Charles tells us. The Taiwanese don't have much respect for these so-called mainlanders. At best, they are considered to be unsophisticated bumpkins, with their outdated outfits, their clumsy behaviour, and their loud chatter.

It takes almost an hour before we shuffle up to the lift. According to a certificate from the Guinness World Record Book, we are about to enter the fastest passenger elevator in the world. The elevator's top speed is said to be 1 010 meters per minute – every second, we rise more than sixteen meters. According to our own stopwatch, it takes no more than 40 seconds to reach the 87th floor.

An audio guide provides us with explanations about what can be seen through the window in a 360° view. But there’s nothing to see because someone has drawn the curtains across the window. Or so it seems; it’s actually clouds that are blocking our view. Occasionally, a gust of wind parts the cloud cover, revealing glimpses of the enormous city of lights beneath us.

We ascend to the 91st floor, where a platform offers an opportunity to experience the surroundings in the open air. It's certainly not cold, and the wind doesn’t bother us either. Clouds obscure the city from view, but above our heads, the silhouette of the tower spire pierces through the mist, illuminated in red and white light.

Their secret weapon turns out to be the so-called damper, a phenomenal feat of technological ingenuity

Damper

91st floor

To erect a tower over half a kilometre high in an area where earthquakes are common, one must be either crazy or know exactly what they are doing. And you can say the latter about the Taiwanese. Their secret weapon turns out to be the so-called damper, a phenomenal feat of technological ingenuity. We watch in admiration as we see the yellow spherical colossus, weighing six hundred sixty tons, suspended by eight steel cables with a diameter of 9 cm. When an earthquake or typhoon occurs, this colossus will respond to the vibrations with a delay. For example, if the tower begins to sway to the left, the damper will lag behind and pull the tower back to the right. And vice versa, of course. The result is that vibrations in the tower are dampened.

When an earthquake or typhoon occurs, this damper will respond to the vibrations with a delay

Genghis Khan Mongolia BBQ is the place where we settle down for dinner, specifically for a Mongolian barbecue. Despite its name, what is served here is neither barbecue nor Mongolian. In fact, Mongolian barbecue originated here in Taipei. It was a certain Wu Zhaonan who developed the concept in 1951 at his street food stall, and his creation soon became extremely popular. Essentially, it’s a form of stir-frying. Vegetables and strips of meat are cooked on a large round griddle at temperatures up to 300 °C (572 °F). You choose your own ingredients and sauce; the chefs take care of the rest.

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Tuesday, April 2 | Taipei – Sun Moon Lake

A dark grey cloud cover grips the city, but rain has yet to fall. Today, we begin our tour of Taiwan. We will head south through the densely populated western plains, and then return to the capital through the rugged mountainous terrain in the east. It doesn’t seem like a big undertaking, as the island is at most 400 km long and 145 km wide. However, by the end of the journey, it will turn out that we have covered about 1 500 km.

The additional lanes seem to float like light ribbons high above our heads

The idyllic Sun Moon Lake is our destination today. Just before nine, Mister Pen hits the road. A dashcam is stuck to the windshield, a camera that continuously records what happens in front of the car. Without this device, you can't get insurance in Taiwan, according to Charles. In some cars, it’s already built in as standard.

We leave the capital via Highway 1, the Sun Yat-sen Freeway. This highway has two times four lanes, yet even that isn’t enough to manage the traffic flow in this densely populated metropolis. Due to the lack of space on the ground, the engineers decided to look upwards. The result is quite spectacular. The additional lanes seem to float like light ribbons high above our heads, supported by just one pillar every sixty meters. Existing obstacles like exits, bridges, and signs have been left untouched, causing the viaducts to sometimes rise thirty meters high to clear them. You really need guts to erect such fragile structures in an area so sensitive to earthquakes.

The followers of Chiang Kai-shek arrived on the island in 1949 and established a dictatorship

Military service is still mandatory in Taiwan, Charles notes as Mister Pen searches for Highway 3, the Formosa Freeway that will take us south. When he himself was in the army, the service lasted two years, unless you were drafted into the navy or air force, in which case it was three years. Nowadays, those terms have been reduced to 13 months and 2 years, respectively.

Meanwhile, we have found ourselves on a viaduct high above the ground. It has two lanes and a shoulder, and is reserved for passenger cars. Up here, the air is a bit mistier than below, and it has started to drizzle. Nevertheless, we can’t help but notice that various well-known companies from the high-tech electronics sector zip by outside our windows. The Taiwanese call this region Taiwan's Silicon Valley.

 

Formosa Freeway

Sanyi

But the mountains of the interior continue to hide behind the rain clouds. Hills and mountains cover a remarkable seventy percent of the island's surface. Only 30 % is flat enough to be suitable for habitation and agriculture. When considering only the habitable area, Taiwan's population density exceeds 2 100 inhabitants per square kilometre.

Nonetheless, the Taiwanese manage to produce high-quality rice on this small area. The production level is so high that a substantial portion is exported to Japan, a remarkable feat considering that the Japanese consider foreign rice to be inferior by definition.

Taiwan Silicon Valley, that's what they call the region where famous companies from the high-tech electronics sector are located

Around thirty to forty thousand years ago, the first people must have set foot on Taiwan. Today, very little remains of that prehistoric population. At most, two percent of the current population descends from these earliest inhabitants. The rest are Han Chinese, who arrived on the island in three waves of migration. Even now, you can distinguish these three groups based on their dialects.

The Hokkien form by far the largest group. When the Qing dynasty took control of the mainland in 1648, the Hokkien fled their homeland of Fujian, soon clashing with the Dutch in what was then known as Formosa.

Although the Hakka constitute the smallest group, they have succeeded best in maintaining their original customs, language, and culture. They too fled the Ming and Qing dynasties. Sun Yat-sen, the first president of China after the fall of the empire in 1912, was a Hakka from the Guangdong region.

 

Sanyi

Together, the Hokkien and Hakka refer to themselves as benshengren – the indigenous population, born and raised in Taiwan. This is in contrast to the waishengren – literally the outsiders. Although they are not the largest group, they are the most powerful. This group descends from the followers of Chiang Kai-shek who arrived on the island in 1949 and established a dictatorship. They quickly took control and reduced the other population groups to second-class citizens. Charles's parents, who came from Shaanxi Province, were also part of this wave of migration.

At most, two percent of the current population descends from these earliest inhabitants. The rest are Han Chinese

Gradually, we reach the Hakka area. Oil is extracted in this region; however, according to Charles, Taiwan must import 98 % of its fuel. Occasionally, the sun breaks through the clouds, and the road surface is completely dry. While jet lag takes its toll on the back seat, Mister Pen continues to speed further south.

Just before eleven, we arrive in Sanyi. You can't miss it; this is the woodcarving town. Virtually every shop on the long main street is dedicated to wood carving. The Wood Sculpture Museum aims to place this artisanal activity in a larger context. Two large buses in the parking lot make us flinch for a moment, but inside the museum, it turns out to be quite calm. Perhaps the neighbouring shops have less to complain about regarding a lack of interest.

 

Sanyi – Wood Sculptures

The modern museum in Sanyi radiates ambition. We are introduced to woodcarving traditions from around the world – Africa, Polynesia, Central America – before focusing on pieces of Chinese origin. Religious carvings are prominently featured, alongside household artefacts and even beautiful modern artworks. Unfortunately, much of the explanation is only in Chinese, leaving non-Chinese speakers at a disadvantage. Photography is also prohibited, adding to the restrictions.

After a brief stroll down the main street, lined with endless shops filled with wood carvings, the variety in themes, shapes, and colours impresses at first. However, once you've seen one shop, it feels like you've seen them all.

With over a hundred kilometres still ahead, time begins to press. Charles decides to adjust the schedule. Instead of having lunch at Sun Moon Lake, we grab lunch boxes of chicken and warm vegetables to eat on the go. Eating with chopsticks in a moving car is certainly a novel experience. Mister Pen, however, doesn't seem to mind that his lunch will soon consist of cold leftovers.

His pilgrimage, which spanned 17 years, took him across China, India, and all the way to Sri Lanka

Highway 6, the Shui Sha Lian Highway, takes us eastward into the interior. The sun generously beams down on the green rice fields. Here too, the highway is elevated on tall pillars – not because of dense population, but to bridge valleys without losing valuable agricultural land.

As we ascend, the highway stitches together a series of tunnels like pearls on a string. Some are only a few hundred meters long, but one stretches for 2,5 km. In Puli, we turn south onto Route 21. It's cloudy but sunny, with more palm trees dotting the landscape. Nothing hints at the devastation that occurred here on September 21, 1999, when a 7,3 magnitude earthquake claimed more than two thousand lives.

 

Sun Moon Lake – Itashao

Steadily, the road continues to climb until, just after two, we reach the sunny village of Itashao, located on the southern shore of Sun Moon Lake. This is Taiwan's largest freshwater lake, situated 762 meters above sea level amidst densely forested mountains. It’s no surprise that this idyllic spot is a popular vacation destination for the Taiwanese. While motorboats and ferries create some activity on the lake, the overall tourist development remains small-scale, limited to a handful of tower buildings in the two villages along the shore.

A few kilometres downstream lies the Mingtan Dam, Charles informs us. At night, turbines pump water from the Shuili River into a higher artificial lake, and during the day, the same turbines release the water to meet peak electricity demands with a capacity of 1 600 MW.

Currently, Taiwan has three nuclear power plants, with a fourth under construction, though it’s surrounded by controversy. The nuclear disaster in Fukushima, Japan, two years ago, has especially thrown a wrench in the works, Charles explains.

For a trip along a few key stops on the lake’s shore, you can hop on one of the ferries from Sun Moon Star. We board at the pier in Itashao, cross over to Shuishe, but don’t disembark. Further along, Chiang Kai-shek once built himself an extravagant retreat. The uninspired architecture rises soullessly above the trees. Today it serves as a hotel.

The small island of Lalu was once sacred to the Thao people

Lalu Island

Lotus flower

The small island of Lalu was once sacred to the Thao people. However, the 1999 earthquake caused significant damage, and the fate of the ethnic group itself isn't much better. The last census in 2000 revealed that fewer than 300 Thao remain. Despite this, they have managed to preserve their traditional culture and customs. Nowadays, many of them work in the tourist industry around the lake.

What interests us most, however, is the peninsula with the Xuanguang Temple. In the 7th century, during the early Tang dynasty, the Chinese monk Xuanzang embarked on a quest for the sacred books of Buddhism. His pilgrimage, which spanned 17 years, took him across China, India, and all the way to Sri Lanka. To this day, his travelogue and his translations of Buddhist scriptures are considered classics of Chinese literature.

 

Xuanguang Pier

A dozen ferry boats are moored at the pier of Xuanguang, a testament to the enduring fame of the monk. Towering bamboo plants line the paved path leading upwards. Chinese visitors patiently queue to have their photos taken by a stele.

 

Chinese monk Xuanzang

In 1955, the relics were returned – not to Mao's detested communists, of course, but to Chiang Kai-shek

Temple of Xuanguang

All in all, it turns out to be a rather simple temple. Its fame owes not so much to impressive architecture, but to the fact that part of Xuanzang's remains were once housed here. Originally, these relics were kept in Nanjing, China, but during WWII, the Japanese decided to transport them to Japan. In 1955, the relics were returned – not to Mao's detested communists, of course, but to Chiang Kai-shek. This is how they ended up in the small Xuanguang Temple. In 1965, when the larger Xuanzang Temple was completed, the relics were moved there.

 

Temple of Xuanzang – Gatehouse

That temple is located higher up in the Cinglong mountains, about a kilometre from here. We could walk there, but Charles has a better idea. We take the boat back to Itashao, from where Mister Pen drives us up to the temple.

 

Temple of Xuanzang

Strangely enough, it's less crowded here. On the ground floor stands a somewhat kitschy statue of Xuanzang. The first floor is dedicated to Chiang Kai-shek's mother – the general actually had the temple built for her. It’s only on the second floor that the shrine containing the monk’s relics is located. There isn't much clarity about the nature of these relics, but Charles insists that it's Xuanzang’s skull.

 

Temple of Xuanzang – Tribute to Chiang Kai-shek's Mother

Falun Gong practitioners are busy promoting their teachings of spiritual self-discipline. Since 1999, this movement has been ruthlessly persecuted in communist China. Mainland Chinese tourists are terrified of even being seen near a Falun Gong practitioner. Their skittish avoidance often results in unintentionally amusing scenes.

 

Temple of Xuanzang – Shrine of the Relics

A notable pagoda higher up the mountain arouses our curiosity. This is the Cih-en Pagoda, established by Chiang Kai-shek in 1971 – once again, for his mother. A gentle nudge is enough to persuade Charles to take us there.

 

Pagoda of Cih-en

A well-maintained path of 700 meters leads us from the parking lot to the pagoda. Evidently, Chiang Kai-shek assumed imperial airs, as the pagoda features nine roofs – a number reserved for the emperor. The top of the pagoda is said to be one thousand meters above sea level, since we are at an altitude of 954 meters and the pagoda itself reaches 46 meters in height.

 

Sun Moon Lake with Xuanzang Temple on Cinglong

We climb the 154 steps and enjoy a unique view of the lake and the surrounding mountains. At the very top of the pagoda hangs a large bell. A heavy wooden beam hangs from the ceiling and serves as a hammer to strike the bell. We can't resist it – moments later, the pure sound of the bell resonates through the quiet forests.

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Wednesday, April 3 | Sun Moon Lake – 921 Earthquake Museum – Alishan

Actually, this village is called Tehua, not Itashao, Charles explains. The new name Tehua means Developed – thanks to Chiang Kai-shek. However, the local population is not keen on the rest of the region implicitly getting the stigma of underdevelopment that way and continues to use the name Itashao.

 

Wen Wu Temple – Gate

Nervously, the road twists along the steep shores of the lake. Apparently, it rained quite a bit last night. That’s a good thing, because it hasn’t rained here in many months. Extreme drought has been a reality for ten years now, with the water level of the lake standing three meters lower than normal. The Prime Minister of Taiwan has even expressed hope that a typhoon will come soon – even though typhoons typically aren’t on the agenda until August and September.

 

Wen Wu Temple

Shortly after nine, we arrive at the Wen Wu Temple on the northern shore of the lake. Originally, the temple was located lower in the valley, but the construction of the Mingtan Dam changed that. In 1938, the temple was rebuilt in this location, where it was safe from the water but not from earthquakes. It was destroyed in 1998 and was magnificently rebuilt in 2005.

 

Wen Wu Temple

Apparently, there was no shortage of donors. Literally thousands of golden votive plaques with bright red ribbons testify to the generosity of the donors.

Literally thousands of golden votive plaques with bright red ribbons testify to the generosity of the donors

Wen Wu Temple – Incense burner, votive plates

Votive plates

In the central hall, two generals hold sway – Guangong and Yue Fei. These are historical figures who have gradually been deified over time. Guangong, whose real name is Guan Yu but is often referred to as Guandi, played a significant role in the civil wars that led to the fall of the Han dynasty in 220 CE. He looks like a hothead, with that wild expression on his fiery red face and his long beard in four braids. He often wields a halberd in his hand as well.

He looks like a hothead, this Guangong, with that wild expression on his fiery red face and his long beard in four braids

Wen Wu Temple – Main Hall – Guangong (right) and Yue Fei (left)

Although he stands here alongside Guangong, Yue Fei actually lived nearly a thousand years later. As a general, he played an important role in the many wars fought by the Song dynasty in the 12th century. The claim that he saved the lives of two kings is more myth than fact. Nevertheless, his name has become synonymous with loyalty.

 

Hundreds of votive cards testify – often in broken English – to the desires of the average Taiwanese

Confucius

The second temple is somewhat more modestly designed. This is not surprising, as it is dedicated to Confucius. Hundreds of votive cards testify – often in broken English – to the desires of the average Taiwanese: Enlighten wisdom and have progress in studies, Turn bad luck into good fortune, Gain advantages from both sides and may good fortune finds you, Whole family safe and well, ... We drop a coin into a wishing machine. A doll figure slides mechanically out of her little house and drops a wish card into a slot.

 

Water spouts allow groundwater to flow into an artificial pond. Coins at the bottom inadvertently evoke thoughts of the Trevi Fountain in Rome

The temple grounds are partially excavated into the hillside. A richly decorated, massive grey wall supports the earth on the back side. Water spouts allow groundwater to flow into an artificial pond. Coins at the bottom inadvertently evoke thoughts of the Trevi Fountain in Rome.

 

Sun Moon Lake

From a terrace above the golden temple roofs, we enjoy the splendid view of the lake and the mountains one last time. We also observe the arrival of the first groups of mainland visitors, who are too late to get in our way.

Just before ten, we leave Sun Moon Lake behind us for good. Our destination lies to the south, but Mister Pen drives north. The persistent rain from last night has made Charles and Mister Pen wary; they are concerned about landslides. The earthquake from the previous week could have compromised the stability of the ground. Adding last night’s rain, which could have set the soil shifting, creates a fatal combination. Therefore, they prefer the safe Highway 3 through the coastal plain over the shorter route through the mountains.

It remains heavily overcast, but dry. Occasionally, the sun peeks out. To our surprise, Charles manages to treat us to an extra stop thanks to the detour. We descend to the 921 Earthquake Museum of Taiwan in Wufeng near Taichung. This site has been declared a national monument, not only in memory of the victims of the earthquake but also to inform and raise awareness among the population.

It was 1:47 a.m. on September 21, 1999, when disaster struck here. Along a fault line in the foothills of the Alishan mountains, the ground began to shake, leaving a trail of death and destruction. With a magnitude of 7,3 on the Richter scale, it was the strongest earthquake in a hundred years. The consequences were staggering: 2 145 dead, 11 305 severely injured, 29 missing, 51 711 buildings completely destroyed, and 53 768 heavily damaged.

With a magnitude of 7,3 on the Richter scale, it was the strongest earthquake in a hundred years

Wufeng – 921 Earthquake Museum of Taiwan

The museum is housed in an underground gallery. This gallery closely follows, over a length of 340 meters, the scar that the earthquake carved into the landscape. From a great height, it appears as if the steel framework of the gallery forms a colossal wound suture, as if a giant with needle and thread has been working to stitch the injured earth together.

 

As a lasting testament to the devastating power of earthquakes, the ruins have been left untouched

The destructive power of an earthquake, its causes and consequences, the necessary precautions, and the ways to prevent damage are all clearly addressed. Even the way humans sometimes contribute to the occurrence of earthquakes is discussed. When it comes to disasters, the Chinese certainly know what they're talking about. The largest disaster in history was the flooding of the Yellow River and the Yangtze River in 1931, which resulted in an estimated 2,5 to 3,7 million deaths.

In Wufeng, the earthquake pierced through the buildings of Kuang-Fu Junior High School and the adjacent sports field with its athletics track and school gate. As a lasting testament to the devastating power of earthquakes, the ruins have been left untouched. A shelter protects them from the elements.

In the destroyed classrooms, the green chalkboards still hang. It doesn't take much imagination to picture the children and their teacher

Athletics track

Classroom

With astonishment, we look at the athletics track, which lies like a crumpled reddish-brown ribbon with white lines on the sloping green grass. Part of the school building has been completely reduced to rubble. The rest still stands, propped up by hydraulic pillars. In the destroyed classrooms, the green chalkboards still hang. Faded chalk marks indicate heavy use. A projection screen, a speaker, and a wall mount for a small TV monitor sit there idle. It doesn't take much imagination to picture the children and their teacher.

It's half-past eleven when we leave the site. Impressive, but it's a shame we had to rush. The fifteen minutes Charles allowed us – it was just a little extra – we've managed to stretch to half an hour.

But we still have quite a few kilometres to cover. We continue southward via the familiar Highway 3. To save time, we have lunch just after twelve at a roadside restaurant. Charles patiently explains the menu to us. Kimty kimty – a wok with pumpkin, coconut milk, and beef – and a spicier Korean-style wok appeal to us, accompanied by a lime and kumquat juice.

 

Kimty kimty

That Charles is going to eat elsewhere with Mister Pen worries us. According to Charles, it’s unjustified. The problem is simply that this place – a roadside restaurant, mind you – is too expensive for him and Mister Pen. They will grab a lunchbox somewhere else.

When the steaming hot woks appear on the table, we are left to our own devices. Red meat floats in a hearty broth. A hard-boiled egg, a bowl of rice, and a sticky sauce complete the picture. We don’t immediately know what to make of it.

Faye and her husband visited Bruges and Brussels – including what they gigglingly call the pipi kid

At a nearby table, a man is watching our confusion with amusement. He shouldn’t have done that. We want to know if he speaks English. In mild panic, he awkwardly gestures with a vague hand movement towards his wife, who must be around here somewhere.

Moments later, Faye makes her appearance, and it turns out she speaks English fluently. This couple hails from Penang in northwest Malaysia. Currently, they are on vacation here with their son. Last year, they even visited Belgium. They saw Bruges and Brussels – including what they gigglingly call the pipi kid. The food was excellent, but Faye momentarily forgets the name of her favourite dish. Promptly, her son pulls out his smartphone. Mussels, the device reports triumphantly.

That brings us back to our original problem. Patiently, Faye explains the instructions for our woks. The raw meat needs to be submerged in the hot broth for a long enough time. About halfway through, the egg – which is not hard-boiled but raw – should be added to the broth. Timing is crucial – if you add it too late, the egg remains raw; if you add it too early, you end up with white flecks in your soup. Faye's English isn’t always sufficient to explain the nuances of the desired cooking, but her son’s smartphone always comes to the rescue.

As the three of them lean over our table – even the father is feeling involved again – we start bringing food to our mouths. We can’t help but notice that we are slowly attracting the hidden interest of almost everyone present in the restaurant. Faye keeps a close eye on our antics, ensuring that calamities are avoided in a timely manner. Occasionally, she makes a quick intervention or fiddles a little bit in our wok

Suddenly, Charles shows up again. The flames are too low, is his verdict. He fiddles with the base of the wok to turn the heat up and recoils with a cry. It suggests that the cast-iron base is horrifically hot. While Charles looks for plasters for his fingers, Faye quickly whisks the raw eggs in our wok. But it’s already too late. We don’t let it get to us and try to enjoy our lunch.

From now on, it’s all uphill along a road that only opened in the 1980s

Almost right on the Tropic of Cancer, we follow the provincial road 18 eastwards. In Chukou – about three hundred meters above sea level – the flat landscape with its villages and rice fields comes to an end. We cross the Bajhang River there. A rusty metal suspension bridge hangs uselessly over the river a bit further on. From now on, it’s all uphill along a road that only opened in the 1980s. Mister Pen has his hands full with the winding turns.

The clouds are getting denser now. Rain stays away for the moment until just after two when the first raindrops hit the windshield. Raindrops turn into drizzle, drizzle turns into rain, and rain turns into mist.

Fifty-three kilometres later, the entrance gate of Alishan National Forest Recreation Area emerges from the fog. A bit further, we reach the busy hotel district – little more than a large parking lot surrounded by shops and hotels, at an elevation of 2 216 meters amidst forests that wave endlessly over the mountains.

We find the shuttle bus that takes us to the comfortable Alishan House, just a kilometre away. A spacious room with Japanese gadgets awaits us – including a toilet with air conditioning above your head and a heated seat under your bottom.

A few cherry blossoms are just about to bloom. Mists have left their chilly droplets on the colourful petals, causing them to droop

Alishan National Forest Recreation Area

At four o'clock, we begin exploring the area with Charles. Short walking routes have been marked out through the densely forested surroundings. A few cherry blossoms are just about to bloom. Mists have left their chilly droplets on the colourful petals, causing them to droop.

 

Sianglin Sacred Tree

In the middle of the forest rises the Pagoda of the Tree Spirit. The structure – more of a pillar than a pagoda – stands on a platform formed by six concentric circles. A bit like the rings in a tree trunk. Each ring symbolises 500 years, together referring to the age of the sacred tree that stands a bit further away. But that is quite an overestimation, as the Sianglin Sacred Tree turns out to be only 2 300 years old. Nevertheless, the red cypress, with its diameter of 12,3 meters and height of 45 meters, is impressive. Chinese and Taiwanese are eager to have their pictures taken there.

On the altar stands a Buddha statue that was gifted by the king of the then Siam

Cihyun Temple

Attracted by the sonorous singing of some monks, we climb to the temple of Cihyun. The ceremony is just coming to an end. On the altar stands a Buddha statue that was gifted by the king of the then Siam. We are offered delicious rice cakes and cookies that contain bamboo charcoal. That seems like a strange ingredient to us. But it is not unusual, it turns out. Because the Kuro burgers from Burger King also contain bamboo charcoal – kuro means black in Japanese.

 

It is the atmosphere in the humid forest that has us in its grip

We continue our journey through the forest along the Giant Trees Boardwalk 1. About twenty giant trees command admiration, but that is no longer our focus. It is the atmosphere in the humid forest that has us in its grip, with misty viewpoints, the fog between the tall trunks, the ever-present mosses, and especially the silence. At least, as long as the ever-present mainlanders can keep their chatter down.

 

Tomb

Shenyi

A splendid, but somewhat slippery boardwalk with railings on both sides leads us down the slope to the bank of the river Shenyi. The narrow gauge of the Alishan Railways also passes here. Charles hesitates, but we press on and cross the bridge. There awaits us Giant Trees Boardwalk 2, with another sixteen giants.

 

Atop the mountain, almost out of nowhere, the Shouzhen Temple appears. A building full of bombast – at least that’s how we Westerners perceive it

Shouzhen Temple

Atop the mountain, almost out of nowhere, the Shouzhen Temple appears. A building full of bombast – at least that’s how we Westerners perceive it – with its gilded walls and ceilings, and the hundreds of colourful figures on the roof. We recognise the Kochi pottery that we were already introduced to in the Longshan Temple in Taipei. The Taoist temple is dedicated to a certain Sjen Tjen Shang Ti. This figure is completely unknown to us, but Charles insists that you can easily recognise him by the turtle under his left foot and the snake under his right foot.

Every year around the Buddha's birthday, the moths settle here for a week or two on the black beards of the warrior gods

Shouzhen Temple dedicated to Sjen Tjen Shang Ti

A moth in the beard

However, we are intrigued by a handful of moths on the black beards of some warrior gods. They are giant moths, with striking patterns in gold and black on their bodies and wings. They look like metallic jewellery, but the attending monk insists that they are living creatures. Every year, they settle here for about a week or two around the birthday of Buddha. No one has an explanation for this. We don’t find it very credible, but when we ask to feel if the moths are real, the monk is not interested.

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Thursday, April 4 | Alishan National Forest – Jade Mountain

A sunrise over Jade Mountain Yushan, the highest mountain in Taiwan, with clouds at your feet crashing like the surf of a white sea against the dark mountains – this is something you don’t want to miss. So, let’s obediently wake up at 3:50 a.m. A quick wash and a cup of coffee get us on our feet. We are not the only ones; there’s already quite a crowd waiting in the hotel lobby. The rain doesn’t seem to deter the quest for a fairy tale sunrise. The hotel brings in dozens of umbrellas. This is a regular routine. If you don’t want to participate in this frenzy, it’s probably wise to inform them in advance; otherwise, you’ll be dragged out of bed whether you like it or not.

Shortly after, we look at a pale curtain of clouds under which we can presume there is a deep valley

A quarter past four. The shuttle bus takes us to Alishan Railway Station in five minutes. An energetic Charles is waiting for us there. He is completely ready but seems to have forgotten the train tickets – just the one thing he absolutely shouldn’t have forgotten. So, the unfortunate Mister Pen is called out of bed to help us out.

Hundreds of tourists are lined up in a serpentine queue. With Japanese precision, the number of passengers for the first train is capped at 350. At 4:20 a.m., it sets off. Meanwhile, Mister Pen has arrived with the precious tickets, and we join the second, packed train that departs fifteen minutes later.

 

Alishan Railway Station, 4:20 a.m.

It’s five o’clock when we reach Zhushan Station, 2 451 meters above sea level, the highest railway station in Taiwan. Shortly after, we look at a pale curtain of clouds under which we can presume there is a deep valley. The sun is supposed to make its appearance at six o'clock. Our last train down departs at 6:40 a.m., emphasises Charles.

Evidently, the local infrastructure is prepared for large numbers of spectators who are out to gaze eastward. The hardened ground with stepped levels and sturdy railing resembles a grandstand. Still, given the circumstances, it’s not too surprising that quite a few train travellers first rush to the food stalls. But incorrigible optimists like us will be found behind the railing, staring at the white curtain of clouds. To further spoil the atmosphere, two tour guides start blaring through their megaphones. Charles arrives with hot chocolate in a can – we immediately forgive him for his ticket blunder.

There is nothing to see of the rising sun, and even less of Yushan. The white ghost curtain doesn’t open even a millimetre

Even though darkness has nearly faded by six o'clock, there is nothing to see of the rising sun, and even less of Yushan. The white ghost curtain doesn’t open even a millimetre. Resigned to the anticipated fiasco, the crowd quietly disperses. At 6:20 a.m., the first train departs, and twenty minutes later, we also begin our descent.

It’s drizzling lightly when we step into Mister Pen’s van shortly after nine. We zigzag down towards the plains along densely forested mountain slopes, with tea plantations here and there. Delicate clouds hang low between the dark green mountains. At Chukou, the valley broadens out. Provincial Highway 18 now takes a more or less straight line through the villages and rice fields. Just before eleven, we reach the familiar National Highway 3 and continue our journey southward.

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Jaak Palmans

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