Trapped like a tourist

If there is one thing that Taiwanese are good at, it's setting traps for tourists. The formula is simple but deadly: first, create an attraction free of charge to bring in the hordes, then lure them into a web of food stands, souvenir stalls and carnival rides. Once ensnared, the helpless victims are slowly nickel-and-dimed to death, with wallets slowly being emptied as stomachs are filled with snack foods and sweetened drinks, and children are plied with toys and games. And all this is set to a soundtrack produced by thousands of people all milling about in the same shared space. If this sounds like your idea of an enjoyable Sunday outing, you'll love Taiwan. As for a cynical curmudgeon like myself, even I have to admit it can be fun...at times.

Today's tourist trap trip was to the "Floral Sea", the best way I can translate from the Mandarin "haihua" 花海, in the town of Hsinshe 新社. This was the same ocean of flowers that I had seen from my lofty perch in the mountains of Tak'eng back on Tuesday (you see the photograph here). At the time, I congratulated myself for not having gone there the previous weekend, when the crowds would have been thick, but today I wasn't laughing. My wife wanted to see the flowers, the weather was perfect (still warm for the end of November - you can't complain about sub-tropical climates), and so we battled the traffic for close to an hour before finally reaching a parking lot close to the entrance. Once inside, it was a long walk through the different flower fields to where the food action was (the real reason Pamela, and many of her compatriots, wanted to go there today!). The colors from the various sections of sunflowers, cosmos, begonias and many others were certainly pleasing to the eye:

My daughter took a few pictures, which have been posted on her blog. For a child's-eye perspective on the world of flora, go here or click on the "Amber's Photo Journal" link over on the right-side of this page.

I also made a short panorama from the middle of the flower fields. The mountains that can be seen in the distance at the end of the clip are the ones I often go hiking in on Tuesdays.

Even amid the flowers, there were people selling balloons, ice cream and soap for blowing bubbles. Amber's cheaply-made, but not cheaply-priced, Dora the Explorer balloon didn't last very long, but she didn't seem to mind. It was fun while it lasted:

At the end of the fields were the stalls - lots and lots of them, selling all manner of foods and drinks, plus farm produce and toys and trinkets for the kiddies. There were also carnival rides, and Amber enjoyed a spin on a merry-go-round before we sat down for lunch. But food was the main draw for the throngs walking about. Hsinshe's culinary claim to fame is deep fried mushrooms, which draw thousands to the area on weekends. They're very tasty - unfortunately the same couldn't be said for the greasy noodles I had as well:

Amber came away from the stall area the proud possessor of a traditional toy known called a "chuch'an", or "bamboo cicada" 竹蟬. When twirled around, it mimics the sound of a cicada, as Amber demonstrates:

After lunch, we walked around some more, with plenty of photo ops to be taken advantage of among the flowers, and in a nearby hay field, before returning to the car:

Unsurprisingly, traffic was slow on the drive back to Fengyuan 豐原, so we stopped in Shihkang 石岡 to visit a rice husking barn that dates from 1942. There wasn't much to see inside apart from some old hullers, but it was free, and with the exception of a very quiet cafe adjacent to the wooden building, devoid of any commercial activity. No wonder there were only a handful of visitors.

A short step back in time

We had some business to attend to in the morning in T'aichung 台中, and as our daughter has a swimming class anyway on Saturday afternoons in the city, we decided to spend the entire day there. Pamela had found a blog containing an entry on an old neighborhood in the Nant'un Disrict 南屯區, and suggested we check it out, and so that's how we ended up killing most of the time before we had to be at the pool for Amber's class.

After lunch, we drove into Nantun, and found the neighborhood in question. According to an English sign, the area is known as "Down Maple Village", and dates back to 1736 B.C.! There isn't much to Down Maple Village except for a brick-layered street, some old houses, several shops and a small canal. Crowds were noticeably absent - no one else was around except for young couple taking photos. The neighborhood isn't very attractive, but that's what was so interesting about it. This is what most of Taiwan looked like just a few short decades ago, unlike the many "old streets" all over the island that cater to the tourist trade:

One of the few places open for business was a small crafts shop called "Taichung Honest Shop" in English. The name is derived from the fact that no one is manning the cash register. There isn't even a cash register - if you see something you like, you put your money into a large urn. I have provided photographic evidence that we did, in fact, deposit the NT20 (60¢ or ¥50) that was required for removing a bottle of water out of the small refrigerator and taking it away from the premises:

And that was pretty much all she (or I) wrote about Down Maple Village. I wouldn't recommend going out of your way to visit, but if you're in the area and have some spare time, it's worth a quick stop. There's no telling how long old neighborhoods like this one can hold out against rapacious property developers - even in this locale, new row houses were located just across the street. Just watch out for the betel nut-chewing, helmet-less おじさん riding scooters - you could end colliding with a relic from Taiwan's past.

Happy Thanksgiving

It isn't easy being a Yank abroad, and trying to raise an American passport-holding child in a foreign land just makes things a little more difficult. It's a struggle at times to expose your offspring to the customs of the "homeland", especially when said child was born "abroad". Today, of course, is Thanksgiving, an occasion which goes by each year virtually unnoticed in Taiwan, outside of the American expatriate community. There are Thanksgiving meals on offer at hotel restaurants, and full-course dinners that can be ordered in advance and eaten at home, but these options aren't cheap, and I don't live on a company subsidized executive expat package (not that I wouldn't mind, if I had the chance!). So when I found out that PJ's Cafe in T'aichung 台中 was offering Thanksgiving dinners for only NT195 ($6 or ¥530), I arranged to take the night off from my regular Thursday evening class, and the three of us made the drive from Fengyuan 豐原 in order to celebrate the holiday.

It may not have looked fancy, but PJ's plate of turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce and coleslaw hit the spot. Amber didn't care much for the stuffing or cranberry sauce, but she loved everything else, and she learned how to say "Happy Thanksgiving", which by itself made the whole evening worthwhile:

Living in a small city like Fengyuan leaves me isolated from the larger expat community that exists in Taichung. For Amber's sake, we probably should get out more often and do things like we did tonight.

In the car on the way back to Fengyuan, I started to smell an odor similar to that of skunk. I thought at first that someone had run over a polecat (as often happened back in Sacramento, when the results could be smelled for miles around), but remembering that skunks aren't native to Taiwan, I mentioned the strange smell to my wife. It turned out to be coming from the bag of bamboo, chicken and onions that Pamela had bought from a street stall after dinner. Dinner was over, and it was back to Taiwan!

Happy Thanksgiving!

青空

There was a surprisingly large number of people out on the trails of Tak'eng this afternoon, considering the fact that it was a weekday. Still, the numbers were nothing like the circus this area becomes on weekends, and those out in the mountains today were far more reverential of their surroundings than their Saturday and Sunday compatriots. In contrast to the weekends, when the ridgetop pavilions are filled with people eating and talking loudly, all the while with their backs to the view, Tuesday's hikers were actually looking at the gorgeous scenery under the clear blue skies on a pleasantly warm day. Not surprisingly, the vistas looking towards the Central Mountain Range 中央山脈 were much better than than those overlooking T'aichung 台中, which was partially hidden under a layer of smog.

A self-portrait under a flag of a local hiking club, taken on the No. 4 Trail

The view looking down towards a colorful flower garden, in the town of Hsinshe 新社. Even on a Tuesday, there were a lot of cars in the parking lot - one can only imagine what it was like on Sunday!

Culture Kick

From Japan Today:

"Seiya Sanada 眞田聖也, right, drop kicks Soya Manabu 征矢学 during their All Japan Pro Wrestling 全日本プロレス (AJPW) Taiwan Cup performance fight in T'aipei 台北 on Saturday. The wrestlers of the AJPW were in Taiwan for a two-day tournament on Friday and Saturday."

Westerners may seek out flower arrangement 華道, kabuki 歌舞伎 and the tea ceremony 茶道, but when it comes to Japanese culture 日本の文化, it's the modern stuff that Taiwanese go for!

Living in the past

There's an excellent article by Max Hirsch of Kyōdō News 共同通信社 in today's edition of the Japan Times ジャパンタイムズ ("When Taiwan-Japan relations run afoul, there's always Hatta Yoichi"):

"The Japanese animated movie 'Hatta Yoichi' was given wide theatrical release Friday in Taiwan, but few moviegoers here are likely to grasp its political significance. Purely as 'anime' アニメ entertainment, the film has much to offer young Taiwanese unconcerned with politics. But it is also a historical biography, and the significance has not been lost on President Ma Ying-jeou 馬英九, who attended a special showing Nov. 4 in southern Taiwan before the general release. With bodyguards and dignitaries in tow, Ma made a point of traveling to T'ainan 台南 to attend the two-hour local premiere. For Ma, the film crystallizes his vision for even-keeled Taiwan-Japan relations. But where the movie appeals to the Taiwanese administration, the reality of bilateral relations misses the mark, as gaffes and hurt feelings have abounded between T'aipei 台北 and Tōkyō 東京 since Ma took office last year — a reality spurring him to bring into play his vision through politically charged sites, figures — and even cartoons."

And who is Yoichi Hatta 八田與一, you might be asking? He isn't a particularly well-known personage in Japan, but in Taiwan he's a celebrated figure, as Hirsch explains:

"(Hatta was a) Japanese engineer who planned and supervised the construction of southern Taiwan's Wushant'ou Reservoir 烏山頭水庫, which was completed in 1930. Japan ruled Taiwan from 1895 until 1945. Despite some lingering post-colonial resentment, Japan is generally credited in Taiwan for improving the island's infrastructure, rule of law, educational system and social services during its 50-year rule. Among Japan's achievements, Wushant'ou ranks as one of its most popular, with the dam taming the waters of southern Taiwan and ending a drought for millions of farmers, according to the film and Ma. Wushant'ou is still in operation, while Hatta is lionized as a humanist who treated local laborers as equals and worked tirelessly for Taiwan's benefit."

You can read a brief bio on Hatta in English here (plus a longer one in Japanese here). Hirsch goes on to explain how a presumably unassuming (and long deceased) hydraulic engineer has been adopted as a poster boy for close Japan-Taiwan relations:

"'Because of Mr. Hatta's efforts, a desert became fertile cropland . . . (his) kind, upright character is akin to that of the Taiwanese,' Ma said at the Tainan premiere...the film adds to the political symbolism that Ma has already lent to Hatta and his dam. Though Wushant'ou has been a symbol of bilateral friendship, Ma has further amplified its political meaning through special visits and functions. For example, Ma observed the 67th anniversary of Hatta's death in a ceremony May 8 held at a bronze statue of the engineer overlooking the reservoir. Last year, Ma arranged for the Taiwanese and Japanese de facto ambassadors to meet at the reservoir and take a tour. The site was chosen to encourage a rapport between the envoys and underscore bilateral friendship."

I hadn't realized that "kindness" and "uprightness" were special qualities of the Taiwanese - I appreciate both the president's clarification of this matter, and his generous acceptance that even (some) Japanese might also possess these fine local characteristics. But why is the Hong Kong-born scion of a well-connected nationalist political family with deep roots in China (and very few in Taiwan) so eager to embrace a symbol of the former colonial master, especially when his own Government Information Office 行政院新聞局 is putting out revisionist North Korean-style propaganda like this:

"'Since President Ma took office, Japan's image of him has been one of cuddling up to China and moving away from Japan, and so he seeks to use Hatta Yoichi to counter this image,' said Luo Fu-chuan, a former Taiwanese envoy to Japan. 'Tōkyō suspects President Ma of wanting to get in bed with Beijing.' Indeed, while Ma has wooed China, restarted formal negotiations across the Taiwan Strait 台湾海峡 and signed trade agreements with Beijing, Taipei relations with Tōkyō have mostly stagnated. Last year, a collision between a Japan Coast Guard 海上保安庁 vessel and a Taiwanese fishing boat in disputed waters near the Senkaku Islands 尖閣諸島 touched off a diplomatic spat about sovereignty over and access to the uninhabited islets and surrounding area. Since May, Ma has been reluctant to meet with Japan's envoy to Taipei, Makoto Saitō, who angered Ma by referring to Taiwan's international status as 'unresolved.' The remark came as a slap in the face to the Ma administration, which insists on the sovereignty of the Republic of China 中華民國, Taiwan's official name. And Taipei's much-touted plans to open a new representative office in Hokkaidō 北海道 have quietly faded away — apparently a sign that the Ma administration's interest in Japan is flagging. But amid the currently chilly ties, Hatta and his reservoir perhaps have taken on more political significance than ever as one of the few remaining, and thus more precious, symbols of positive relations. For Ma, they remain symbols to fall back on."

While it's great that the Diaoyutai Warrior can find something about the Japanese to like (remember the "What have the Romans ever done for us?" scene from "Life of Brian"?), all this adulation is no substitute for solid, stable relations between Taiwan and Japan. Like it or not, for Taiwan Japan is an important trading partner and source of investment, not to mention a potential ally in matters of security, built on a shared historical relationship. Though it might offend his Chinese nationalist feelings, Ma needs to shift his focus from the past, and pay more attention to the Japan (and Japanese) of the present and the future.

UPDATE:

It seems Hirsch's article struck a nerve with the Taipei Economic and Cultural Representative Office 台北経済文化代表処 in Tōkyō 東京.

The KMT 中國國民黨 can be pretty arrogant at home (and why not? It controls both the presidency and the legislature, as well as many local governments), but it's often very sensitive about criticisms from outsiders, so it should come as no surprise that someone at TECRO felt the need to respond.

Bob and Bing on the Road to Taichung

I have Tuesday afternoons free, and usually take advantage of the time by going for walks in the mountains. This morning, however, turned out to be an unexpected holiday as well, thanks to a government inspection of the kindergarten where I teach. It's one of those "Taiwan things" - foreigners are not allowed to teach young children, yet everyone knows it goes on. Hundreds (if not thousands) of Westerners are employed at kindergartens promoting English as the medium of instruction, and these schools can, in fact, sponsor working visas for foreign instructors. What the government is afraid of isn't clear (I'm not sure what dangerous ideas I could be imparting on the young minds I mold on weekday mornings), but when it comes time for announced-in advance inspections, the non-Taiwanese teachers are either told to hide (in empty rooms, basements, nearby parks...anywhere is possible) or, as was the case today, to take part of the day off. Of course, the logical thing to do would be to allow qualified foreign language instructors to teach young children in regulated, supervised environments, but this is Taiwan, so ridiculous restrictions are imposed, and then flouted by virtually everyone. It's things like this that make me glad my residency visa comes through marriage.

I had planned to spend this afternoon doing a bit of sightseeing in T'aichung 台中, and that's what I did (only with a bit more time on my hands). This morning I paid a visit to the city's foremost tourist attraction (for the locals, anyway), the National Museum of Natural Science 國立自然科學博物館. Like most things about Taichung (or Taiwan, for that matter), my feelings are mixed on the museum. From the outside, the building does nothing to inspire the approaching visitor. Most of the displays inside are directed towards children, and it was no surprise to see a constant stream of school children being led around the museum by guides today. Having visited before both with students and my daughter, I skipped the exhibits covering things like paleontology, zoology and biology, and instead made for the quieter displays located further inside the large building. In these rooms, one can learn about traditional Chinese medicine, early advances in Chinese technology, paleolithic Chinese cultures and Chinese spiritual beliefs, among other things:

Do you detect a pattern? It appears that the museum was established for the purpose of reminding Taiwanese people that they are "Chinese", and therefore should be proud of all that Chinese culture and tradition entails. In all fairness, however, the science museum also has Taiwan-specific displays, including one on the contributions of Japanese botanists to the study of flora on this island (alas, it was still in the process of being set up, and thus wasn't open yet). Yes, you can learn a lot about many aspects of what it means to be Chinese...if you can read characters, that is. With a couple of exceptions, there wasn't much labeled in English (though there may be English-language audio guides available). The room covering Taiwan's aboriginal peoples was one of those exceptions, but was surprisingly small considering the importance of the native peoples on the settlement and development of Taiwan. The other was a temporary exhibit containing photographs taken of Lukang 鹿港 in the 1960's by a doctor who was working there at the time. The pictures themselves provided a fascinating look at daily life in what was then a poor Taiwanese town, before it was discovered by tourists, and the explanations in English were very well done.

Following lunch (where the hordes of school kids were noisy, but surprisingly not obnoxious), I took a walk through the botanical gardens behind the museum. The grounds are dominated by the tropical rainforest conservatory (with its giant dragonfly outside). Having been there before, I gave it a miss this time, but the grounds both here, and outside the main museum buildings, make for a nice stroll, and a respite from the hubbub of the streets outside.

I then walked from the science museum towards Taichung art museum, along a series of parkways that have seen better days, unfortunately. As I had some personal business to attend to while in Taichung, I decided to save the art museum for the next time I play tourist, but I made a circuit of the grounds before returning to my scooter parked in front of the national science museum. 

By the time I'd finished doing what had to be done in Taichung, the weather had turned cloudy, cool and windy. Back in Fengyuan 豐原, the winds were so strong that a woman and her two small children were blown off their scooter and onto the middle of the street. Fortunately, everyone was fine, and I helped pick up the bike. Neither of the children were wearing helmets, of course, and the incident occurred while the woman was attempting to make a left turn on a red light, in front of oncoming traffic.

This is Taiwan, after all.

Seeing the world from the 5-1

This morning started off on a less than promising note when I woke up to thunder and rain. Tuesday afternoons are when I like to go for walks in the mountains, but the sky didn't augur well. Still, I prepared everything as I usually do, and short of typhoon-like conditions, I was determined to get my walk in, rain or shine (though the sounds of thunder were somewhat disconcerting). The rain wasn't heavy, but it was constant all through the morning...until the time I finished my shift shortly before noon. It was still overcast on the ride out to Tak'eng, but by the time I arrived at the start to the No. 1 Trail, the sun was shining. The gods must have been pleased.

The afternoon turned out to be one of the more satisfying excursions I've had in this particular area, for two reasons: 1.) the weather had no doubt kept some people away, and so I had the mountain mostly to myself; and 2.) the morning showers had resulted in some of the clearest skies I've seen in quite some time. The course I chose today was a longer one, going up the No. 1 first, then walking over to Trail 5-1, and continuing uphill from there. The No. 5 is my favorite out of all the paths in the Tak'eng area because not only is it the least busy (due to the extra effort it takes to reach it), but also for the views it provides. The other trails all have vistas overlooking T'aichung 台中 and its neighbors (at least when it isn't hazy or smoggy), but the No. 5 allows you to see what's on the other side, towards Taiwan's Central Mountain Range 中央山脈. And today I was in for a nice surprise. It had been a while since I'd taken this trail. As I climbed up to an electricity pylon perched atop a clearing, I discovered that since the last time I was there, someone had clear cut all the trees and bushes in that area. Normally, I'd be upset that such a thing had been done, but the result in this case was a great view overlooking the farming communities and fields down below. The air was so clear that I could make out with my binoculars the small homes and buildings dotting the sides of the mountains in the background. The photos and video I took didn't do the scene justice:

And I thought to myself...what a wonderful world.

Louis

I'm forty-six years of age. Most of my friends are either the same age as me, or younger. And while most of us are long past our youth, none of us can be considered "old". Which is why it is such a big shock to learn of the passing of one of my closest friends.

I met Louis in the spring of 1990, when I was hired as a teacher at ECC in Tokyo. It was no surprise that we quickly became friends, seeing as we were the same age, were from the same state, had the same tastes in music, the same bad habits (beer and cigarettes), and the same deep interest in all things Japanese (including girls :)!). Much of my free time in Tokyo was spent in Louis' company - bonding sessions over beer, eating out at izakayas, going to clubs and concerts, making trips outside of the city and just plain hanging out, together and with mutual friends, talking about this, that and the other. Louis had to have been the best conversationalist I have ever met, a result of his intelligence, wit and charm. He was also one of the few people I have ever known with whom it was a pleasure to have an argument. Even his habit of calling me up at one or two o'clock in the morning after he'd had a little too much to drink never got to be annoying. Those chats were always worth giving up an hour or two worth of sleep! And of course there were the times when we helped each other through difficult moments in our personal lives. Louis' advice was something I often sought out, right up to the present day.

When Louis left Japan to return to the States and work on his dream of becoming a writer, life in Tokyo became a little less interesting. I only met him in person on a few occasions afterward. In the early summer of 1998, he put me up for a week at his apartment in Brooklyn (after I had visited Mike Burkat in Boston, a mutual friend who also left us much too soon). Thanks to Louis, I had a great time in New York. Then, in the spring of 2001, it was my turn to host him, when he came to see me in Taiwan. There was also the time in the early fall of 1999 when I visited him at his new place in Campbell. I was driving back to Washington from Indiana at the tail end of the worst personal crisis of my life and made a detour to California to see him. All I can say is that Louis was there for me when I needed him. Despite the physical separation, we never lost touch with each other, thanks to email, Skype and Facebook. I also made sure to call him up and talk to him on the phone whenever I was staying at my parents' place in Washington. It's to my regret now that I didn't get around to driving down to California to visit him on his boat.

It's difficult coming to terms with what has happened. On Saturday, I was passing along birthday wishes via Facebook. On Tuesday, I was stunned to be reading messages of prayers being posted on his Facebook Wall by family and friends, and thinking that when he got out of the hospital, I would give him a ring on Skype and admonish him (gently, of course) to be more careful next time. It wasn't to be, however, as I found out this morning. And now it's hard to believe he's gone. I'm not a religious person, and so I don't believe Louis has gone to a "better place". The best place for him to be is right here with the rest of us, sailing his boat, writing witty postings on Facebook, sending everyone his annual Christmas stories and working on getting his book published. There was still so much more he had to offer to the world.

Life goes on, of course, but the memories of Louis will remain. Right now, I'm thinking of all the things he wrote about his surfing adventures in Hawaii, and what a great trip that must have been for him. He was able to see and experience things that most people will never have the chance of doing. Even in his lowest moments, he always managed a smile while remaining positive.

Thank you for the days, my friend. I'll always love you.

Repetition is getting kind of boring

Another day, another pro-China commentary on Taiwan in the Japanese English-language media. This time, it's Frank Ching again, in the Japan Times ジャパンタイムズ with "Missiles crimp Taiwan's thoughts of peace", regarding the estimated 1500 missiles pointed towards this island:

"While Beijing has been willing to accommodate Taiwan in terms of economic cooperation, slightly more international space and a diplomatic truce, it has not done much to reduce military pressure. At the same time as it is increasing its military capabilities, China is also putting pressure on the United States to halt or at least reduce arms sales to Taiwan."

Ching begins by portraying China in a generally positive light except for that pesky ol' offensive missile problem. The entirety of the column is framed from a Chinese perspective, such as the following paragraph:

"This is not in Taiwan's interests and, ultimately, not in China's either. Beijing's top priority right now should be to enhance Ma Ying-jeou's 馬英九 standing among the voters so as to ensure his re-election in the next presidential election. If Ma is defeated in 2012, the return to power of the pro-independence Democratic Progressive Party 民主進步黨 would inevitably lead to heightened cross-strait tensions."

Notice how what Ching regards as being in Taiwan's "interests" dovetails nicely with what he thinks is best for China. In Ching's view, a DPP-led administration would conceivably seek to act like the a government of a sovereign state (the temerity of it all!), when what Taiwan really needs is a continuation of the current president's policies of accommodating Beijing.

"It is extremely shortsighted of Beijing to enhance military pressure on the Ma administration. China's military power is already so much greater than Taiwan's that it would be irresponsible of Ma, or any other leader, to ignore this growing imbalance. The natural result is that T'aipei 台北 will seek to purchase arms from the U.S. to try to reduce the military imbalance between the two sides. If Beijing wants Washington to reduce weapons sales to Taiwan, it should demonstrate that Taiwan faces little or no military threat from the mainland. By continuing to increase the number of short-range missiles threatening Taiwan, Beijing is ensuring that the U.S. government will have little choice other than to make sophisticated weapons available to Taiwan."

Two false assumptions are at play here. One is the assertion that Taiwan will be somehow forced to seek sophisticated weapons from the United States. The fact is that while the Ma administration has been making noises about arms purchases, it hasn't really demonstrated much enthusiasm for doing so. And it shouldn't be forgotten how the KMT 中國國民黨 repeatedly held up programs to buy American weapons in the legislature all throughout the Chen Shui-bian 陳水扁 years. The other fallacy is that China is forcing the US to sell Taiwan weapons, when numerous other factors - Taiwan's many (mostly conservative) friends in Congress, our old friend the military/industrial complex, the Taiwan Relations Act 台灣關係法 - all work to keep Taiwan armed despite the lack of formal relations with the U.S.

"As long as China acts in a threatening manner toward Taiwan, the government in T'aipei, regardless of which party is in power, will seek arms with which to defend its people and its territory. And as long as Taiwan seeks to buy weapons with which to defend itself, the U.S. cannot simply dismiss those requests out of hand. It will have to make an assessment of the threat facing Taiwan and its need for specific weapons. If China wants the U.S. to stop selling arms to Taiwan, the best thing it can do is scale down its military threat to Taiwan. Scrapping the 1,000-plus missiles aimed at Taiwan would be a good first step."

Ching is making a dangerous connection - that if China does, in fact, eliminate the missiles pointed at Taiwan, the U.S. will have no reason to sell arms to Taiwan. What Ching is (deliberately?) choosing to ignore is that, even without missiles, China will remain a threat to Taiwan, both militarily and (thanks to Ma and his team) increasingly economically. Ching may feel such a quid pro quo (no more missiles = no more arms sales) is reasonable, but hopefully more rational minds in Washington will think otherwise.

"China seems to have taken the position that the removal of its missiles can only come about as a result of negotiations with Taiwan. It wants Taiwan to pay a price for the removal of this threat. The mainland should realize that continuing to step up military pressure on Taiwan will simply provide ammunition to the opposition party, which is relentless in accusing Ma of kowtowing to China. Ma has said that as long as China still threatens Taiwan, he will not hold peace talks with the mainland."

No, instead Ma will continue to tie up Taiwan's economic future ever more closely with China's huge economy, to the point where missiles won't be needed to ensure a coming about of a Taiwan Special Administrative Region, presided over by a Chief Executive Ma Ying-jeou (or any one of a number of KMT fellow travelers who would jump at such an opportunity). The Frank Chings of the world will be pleased. I'm not sure the same will be able to be said of the 23 million or so people on the island of Taiwan.

Do you mine?

Back from an overnight visit to a part of Taiwan's Japanese-era past, and time to write about it. We spent this weekend in Chinkuashih (Kinkaseki) 金瓜石 and Chiufen 九份, located in the northeastern part of Taiwan, not far from the capital, T'aipei 台北. Both towns are closely-connected to Taiwan's mining era (gold in the case of Chiufen, copper and silver for Chinkuashih), and were home to tens of thousands of people during the boom years. Eventually, however, the cost of extracting the precious metals became too prohibitive, and the area was forgotten until being rediscovered by tourists, starting in the 1990's. Now, Chiufen has become too popular. Chinkuashih is the better of the two at retaining something of its original atmosphere, but it also draws a lot of visitors (there was a constant stream of buses running along the narrow mountainside roads while we were there). Nonetheless, both are worth a visit, especially Chinkuashih for its excellent Gold Ecological Park 黃金博物園區.

 

TAIPEI 101 could be seen from the car as we drove through Taipei on the way to Chinkuashih. We arrived there in the early afternoon, and searched for our B&B, Lucky House . We eventually found it, but only after driving down some very tight-fitting lanes. After checking in, we walked over to the Gold Ecological Park. It was a somewhat long, tiring walk for Pamela and Amber (one doesn't like exercise, and the other is still a few months shy of four years old), going up steep staircases and walking along narrow, busy streets, but the scenery was refreshing. Should you decide to visit Chinkuashih and/or Chiufen, I strongly recommend using public transportation instead of マイカー, as the bus system for getting there and around is excellent.

On the way to the park, we passed this building with a replica Zero fighter 零戦 on it!

The Gold Ecological Park is well laid-out, and has a lot to see. We only had a couple of hours of daylight left by the time we arrived, but still managed to visit the Crown Prince Chalet, the Gold Temple, the Penshan Fifth Tunnel Experience Area and the Gold Museum. The Crown Prince Chalet was built in 1922 for Hirohito's 昭和天皇 visit in 1923 (at a time when he was still Crown Prince 皇太子). Hirohito made it to Taiwan but not to Chinkuashih, but the house is still a good example of distinctive Japanese architecture (albeit in a Taiwanese setting):

The misnamed "Gold Temple" is the former Ōgon-jinja 黄金神社 (places of Shintō 神道 worship are always called "shrines", and not "temples", the latter being associated with Buddhism 仏教). Only a few ruins remain of Ōgon Shrine, but they are incredibly atmospheric, and the walk up the steep hillside is rewarded with great views of Chinkuashih in the valley below:

The Penshan Fifth Tunnel Experience Area is a tour of a 180-meter (600 feet) section of an old mine, and includes several wax dummies illustrating what working conditions were like for the miners. Hardhats were required:

The Gold Museum gives a good overview of Chinkuashih's mining history, and also includes accounts of what it was like for the Allied prisoners at the Kinkaseki POW camp (more on that later). The most popular attraction at the museum was definitely the 220-kilogram (485 pounds) gold bar, the world's largest, worth roughly NT244 million ($7.5 million or ¥670 million at current prices), according to an electronic counter in front of the bar's case. I didn't get a photo, unfortunately, but I was able to reach inside the case and touch it. Following dinner at a Japanese restaurant (how apropos!), we walked back in the dark to our 民宿 and retired for the night.

The following morning turned out to be rainy and misty. It always seems to rain whenever we visit the northern part of Taiwan, and this trip was no exception. Nonetheless, we were still able to get out and enjoy the sights. After breakfast and checkout, we drove past the Gold Ecological Park to Ch'uanchi Temple. Aside from a 35-meter (115 feet) high statue of Guan Di 关帝 (which looked eerie in the fog), the temple was your run-of-the-mill Taoist house of worship, but below it was a nice little park built on the ruins of the aforementioned POW camp. During the Second World War, the Japanese operated fifteen such camps around Taiwan for Allied prisoners-of-war. Working conditions were appalling, brutality at the hands of the Japanese and Taiwanese guards was a fact of daily life and roughly 10% of the POW's didn't survive the ordeal. Kinkaseki was the biggest of these camps, and the only one that I'm aware of where the unhappy past is acknowledged - there is a memorial in the park with the following inscription:

"In memory of the more than 1000 gallant men of the British Commonwealth and Allied forces, who suffered brutal and savage treatment here and in the nearby copper mine, and other places in Taiwan, as prisoners of war of the Japanese from 1942 to 1945. Their souls remain here forever. 'None of us should forget.' "

None of us shouldn't:

From there, we drove over to the other side of the hills to Chiufen. Here is the classic Taiwanese tourist trap - an old street chock full of small restaurants, snack stands and souvenir shops catering to the hordes of day trippers arriving from Taipei and beyond (including Japan, from snippets of conversation I overhead while there, not to mention the proliferation of Japanese signs). There's more to Chiufen, of course, than just eating, but for the couple of hours we were there today, we didn't venture beyond Chinshan Street. This was actually my second visit to Chiufen (and Chinkuashih). The first time was in 2001, during the Lunar New Year 春節 holidays. Back then, Pamela and I arrived there in the morning, and walked along some of the picturesque streets, then left before things became too crowded. We then went to Chinkuashih, where at that time there were only a handful of tourists (this was before the Gold Ecological Park had been established). Chiufen has atmosphere, but like many places in Taiwan, it's probably best visited during weekdays. If you have to visit on a weekend, I suggest staying a night - that way you can enjoy the narrow streets and lanes after most of the hordes have stuffed themselves and gone home, and enjoy some of the other sights, like walking up to the top of Mount Chilung, the following morning before the town is transformed into a human zoo. Maybe one of these days I might actually follow my own advice, too!:

Even in blustery conditions, the views from Chiufen were excellent!

We left Chiufen just after lunchtime (the precious parking space we had managed to procure in a local's garage was only paid up for two hours), and drove down to the coast so that Amber could have a look at the ocean. Mission accomplished, we made the drive back home to Fengyuan 豐原, thankfully arriving ahead of the usual late Sunday afternoon freeway traffic jams. Time to start considering the next overnight excursion. I already have a few ideas...

金瓜石（きんかせき）

かつて九份とならび金鉱で栄えていた金瓜石。金を産出していた１９３０年代が黄金期で、１９７０年代に金鉱は閉鎖され、以後は人影もまばらな過疎地となった。ここ１０年ほどの九份ブームから観光開発が行われ、政府の手で廃坑を中心とした黄金博物館区が完成した。

村の中心は黄金博物館区がある。園区の南側には日本統治時代に建てられた黄金神社の名残がある。石造の鳥居と灯篭が残されているが、神社はなく、石柱が残されているだけである。周辺りはほかにも日本統治時代の木造建築が残存していて、いくつかは修復され一般公開されている。なかでも１９２３年、昭和天皇が皇太子の頃、訪台のおりにこの地を視察した際に建てられた和風邸宅は、太子賓館の名で公開され、人気を呼んでいる。

九份（きゅうふん）

基隆から南へ１０ｋｍの山間にある、坂道や階段の多い小さな町。山を背後に海に面した斜面に建つ家々、石段や薄暗い路地など、町はレトロ感覚にあふれている。

もともと９戸しかなかった小さな集落で、交通が不便なため品物屋を補充するときに毎回９セットを買うので九份という名前が付いたという。

「舊道（旧道）」バス停で下車し、観海亭に立ってみよう。

天気がよければ、町の全景と海が見渡せる。セブンーイレブンの横の道が基山街。東西に延びた一番にぎやかな小径で、みやげ物屋やレストランなどが集まっている。その基山街の東側、見晴らしのいい部分の少し手前にある石段が竪崎路で、九份のほぼ中央を南北に走っている。その中腹あたりに映画「悲情城市」の撮影に使われたレストランがあり、「悲情城市」と書かれた看板が出ていて、今でも人気のある記念写真のポイント。その付近で竪崎路と交わって東南に延びる軽便路にも食堂、みやげ物屋が並んでいる。無数の小径が町中に広がり、一歩路地に足を踏み入れると、日本統治時代の古きよき九份の面影が残る。

また、モチモチした食感の九份名前、芋圓（台湾語でオーイン。タロイモと小麦粉を練ってだんごのようにしたもの）もぜひ食べたい。竪崎路を下りきったあたりに「九份」バス停があり、帰路はここから乗車すると便利。

（地球の歩き方台湾’０５～’０６）