A perfect day for walking

Kind of ironic, isn't it? Monday was an unplanned day off from work due to an approaching typhoon that didn't reach our area. Tuesday it was back to normal, and the wind and rain decided to make an appearance. Riding my scooter this afternoon on the road between Taichung Airport 臺中航空站 and Taichung Metropolitan Park 臺中都會公園, I was nearly blown off my bike by the force of the winds whipping about. This begs the question as to what I doing outside on such a miserable day in the first place, to which I would answer "Why going hiking, of course!" Actually, while it was windy and wet at times, it didn't seem like a real typhoon, so I figured it was safe enough to take a long walk. Therefore, following lunch at 7-Eleven, I headed out to the Nanliao Chuk'eng Old Path 南寮竹坑古道, which I had discovered (for myself, that is) a couple of weeks ago (and which you can read about here). This time, I did the route in reverse, starting out on the C Trail, before returning on the Main Path via the Trail B detour. It was 90 minutes of wind, rain and solitude, otherwise known as "bliss".

This colorful beetle was trying to shield itself from the elements. There were also numerous cicadas and dragonflies flying about:

The view while walking down Trail C. Rural Taiwan is rarely bucolic, as the power station in the background demonstrates:

The C Trail meets the main route under the No. 3 Freeway 福爾摩沙高速公路:

(I was asked in my previous post about a certain plaque on the ground in this area. I took a closer look this time, and it turned out the inscription was just a description of the hiking trails in the area.) After a leisurely stroll downhill along C, it was time to work my up back up. Starting out on the main trail, I soon came to the B Course, a short trail that loops back to the main path further uphill. A short stroll through a cemetery proved once again that, here in Taiwan, the dead get the best real estate:

The clouds were passing by quickly overhead...: 

...while the wind was pretty strong at times: 

Looking down into the ravine and Trail C. The cluster of trees on the right sit atop a small hill that supposedly resembles a carp:

The area around the Nanliao Zhukeng Old Path contains some interesting-looking temples and old neighborhoods. Being pressed for time, and with the weather conditions somewhat less than ideal, I decided to save further exploration for another time:

It was still raining this evening as I rode into Taichung for my weekly (soon to be bi-weekly) Mandarin lesson. I couldn't help but get distracted by these signs while on my way to class - no wonder I'm not progressing:

"Oshare" おしゃれ is a Japanese word that means "smartly dressed, stylish or fashion-conscious". It also doesn't require a macron over the "o".

"Ichiban" いちばん「一番」, meaning "the best" or "number one", is one of the most-frequently seen Japanese words on signs in Taiwan. Others include いらっしゃいませ, "Irasshaimase" or "welcome", and おいしい, "oishii" or "delicious".

The Chinese on the sign 日式大阪燒 means "Japanese-style okonomiyaki", while the hiragana 平仮名 above the words reads somewhat differently as "Nihon Ōsaka-yaki" にほんおおさかやき. If you don't know what okonomiyaki お好み焼き is, do yourself a favor and check here.

This conveyor-belt sushi restaurant 回転寿司 often has some strange Japanese on its signs. In the upper right-hand corner is written 今日、すし氣分, which is supposed to suggest you're in the mood for sushi today. Except that the first character in the compound "kibun" is written with the traditional Chinese character 氣, and not the Japanese variant 気. Thus, my Japanese online dictionary can't translate 氣分, while Google Translate for Chinese renders it as "gas separation" in English! It might get a little odoriferous around the sushi counter!

Typhoon? What typhoon?

It isn't even a typhoon, anymore - Nanmadol was downgraded to a tropical storm, and while it did dump a lot of water on the southern and eastern parts of the island (see BBC article here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-pacific-14705194), central Taiwan was spared. Typhoons being the unpredictable beasts that they are, however, the decision was made Sunday evening to close public schools in our area, which in turn led the owner of the cram school where I'm employed to close up shop today. So, while my wife had to work and Amber still went to her (private) kindergarten, I was free all this morning and afternoon.

Upon finding myself with some unexpected free time, and with the family car at my disposal (I'm usually the one stuck with the scooter), I decided to do the logical thing on this typhoon day - go for a hike. Arriving in the Tak'eng 大坑 area around ten a.m., I started up the No. 2 Trail, and almost immediately came across of a small troop of Formosan macaques 台灣獼猴. They were too far away, and were moving too quickly through the trees, for me to get a picture of them, but I took the sighting to be an auspicious sign. And it turned out to be as much on this three-hour hike, at least as far as the weather was concerned. With the exception of a few sprinkles at the beginning, the rain stayed away, and there were plenty of cool breezes as I made my way up the No. 2, across the No. 5 and down the No. 2 and back to the parked car. I still managed to sweat profusely, however.

I may not have been able to get any pictures of the monkeys, but I did get a shot of this colorful bird sitting all alone in a rest area atop the No. 2 Trail:

The bird made no attempt to flee, so I don't know if it was hurt, or just somebody's pet waiting for its master to return. In any event, it was nice to finally have one of these rest shacks to myself - they're usually commandeered by large groups of noisy picnickers, or nappers:

Considering the weather, and the fact that it was a Monday morning, there were more people out on the trails than I had expected. Still, most of the pavilions along the paths were empty, so I was able to stop and take in the view in places:

Looking toward the Central Mountain Range 中央山脈 from the No. 5 Trail. Those mountains often act as a buffer between central Taiwan and the typhoons that frequently batter the east coast:

This small snake kindly paused long enough for me to take a picture:

At one point, as I was descending the No. 5 Trail, I encountered an unusual sight. A middle-aged woman and two middle-aged men, all three dressed in black and wearing white headbands, were standing in a clearing on the trail. The woman was chanting something, while the men stood behind her with hands clasped in prayer and holding banners with Chinese characters written in ink on them. Watching the proceedings was another obasan, this one in regular clothing. My wife thinks that someone may have met their untimely end in that particular location, and that the figures in black were attempting to call the soul back "home". I didn't feel that it would have been appropriate to have stopped and taken a picture, so I continued on my way past them. I don't like taking photographs of people without their permission, though in special circumstances like this one, I would have tried for a long-distance shot (the bend in the trail combined with the tree cover prevented me from doing so). The next time I'm on this trail I'll have to keep a watch out for ghosts!

Looking down on the town of Hsinshe 新社:

I was told by another middle-aged woman standing nearby that this photo of an orb-weaver spider was "hen p'iaoliang" 很漂亮, or "very beautiful". I'm assuming she meant the spider, and not the quality of the photograph:

I generally don't enjoy "typhoon days". For someone like myself who is paid on an hourly basis, it can mean a loss of income for the day. Today, however, I was at least able to get out and get some exercise, which is much preferable to being stuck indoors waiting for a storm to blow through. Tomorrow is my usual hiking day, so we'll have to wait and see what Mother Nature has in store for Tuesday.

Grabbing tigers by their tails

It was my wife's birthday yesterday (Saturday), and though she had to work in the morning, she was free after lunchtime. So, in the early afternoon, the three of us piled in the car and headed south to Yunlin County​ 雲林縣, that area of central Taiwan where Pamela originally hails from (the town of Hsiluo 西螺, to be exact). Our first stop upon exiting the freeway was Tz'ut'ung 莿桐, a rural township not far from Hsiluo. There, we paid a call on an old friend of my wife's, whose husband, formerly with the Foreign Affairs Police, had given us some very helpful advice regarding a recent ordeal legal matter I had to deal with concerning a traffic incident. Pamela's friend runs a small boutique, where Amber posed in front of the latest Yunlin fashions:

After saying thanks, we left, just in time to get a caught in a downpour that may have been a result of Typhoon Nanmadol, currently brushing past Taiwan's northeast coast as I type this.

It was still raining when we reached Huwei​ 虎尾, an urban township with deep ties to Taiwan's history as a sugar producer. Parking our car downtown, it was a short walk in the rain to a small but beautiful wooden Japanese building that once served as the home of the county commissioner during the colonial period 台灣日治時期:

My wife attended high school in Huwei, but doesn't recall seeing this building during her student days there. This suggests that the house was left to languish until recent years, when its potential as a tourist lure became apparent. It has since been restored, and now serves as a venue for artistic performances, such as the concert being performed inside while we were there:

Almost next door to the old home is the building that once served as the county hall during the Japanese era:

It now houses a museum devoted to Taiwanese puppet theater:

In addition to the displays of puppetry, the old cells used for holding suspects prior to their court cases are open for inspection. Here's Amber announcing that she is not, in fact, crazy inside the padded cell:

Kudos go out to the authorities in Huwei for not only preserving Taiwan's beautiful Japanese-period architecture, but for utilizing such spaces for more than just dusty historical displays. It would be great if more cities and towns across Taiwan could find ways to give their cultural and historical architectural relics (what's left of them, anyway) some relevancy in this day and age.

Following dinner in one of Huwei's numerous Japanese restaurants (this is a town that clearly, and unapologetically, embraces its past), we headed over to the old sugar plant. The factory itself was closed for the day by this time, but the small food store in the park across the street was still open. While sugar has declined in importance over the years (it was once a major cash crop in Taiwan), several old factories across Taiwan have been reinvented as tourist sites, where the main attraction is...ice cream. Yes, in Taiwan, you travel for miles just to eat ice cream on the premises of disused sugar refineries. I have to admit, though, that my chocolate cup was pretty good, while my daughter seemed to enjoy her peanut butter-flavored Popsicle:

The last thing we did in Huwei was to visit a clinic...or at least my wife did. Not to worry for there's nothing to be concerned about, but I'm not at liberty to disclose the reason behind the visit. Suffice it to say, while Pamela was waiting her turn inside, Amber and I took a walk through the downtown area:

Huwei's main bus "station", which was pretty quiet late on a Saturday evening. Pamela used to pass through here during her high school days, riding the bus back and forth from Hsiluo.

Like many towns and smaller cities throughout Taiwan, traffic circles have been built to smooth traffic flows. Taiwan being Taiwan, and the Taiwanese being Taiwanese, these can be an adventure to drive through (and around) at times.

Another leftover from the Japanese era stands watch over a busy corner.

As this is the last weekend of the Ghost Festival 中元節, several temple festivals were underway in downtown Huwei. Amber wanted to watch this puppet show, though the noise was a little too much for her to bear.

TRA la la

Like my daughter, the Obama administration is going through contortions over the question of whether or not to sell upgraded versions of F-16 fighter planes to Taiwan. As an article by scholar Michael Richardson that appeared the other day in the Japan Times ジャパンタイムズ points out, the "Taiwan arms deal serves as (a) litmus test of U.S. resolve":

"Buoyed by growing economic and military strength, China is drawing more lines in the sand in the vast, but disputed, offshore zones in Asia over which it claims sovereignty or jurisdiction. These 'red lines,' which China warns should not be crossed, affect the vital interests of Taiwan, Southeast Asia and Japan.

They also test the resolve of the United States to continue to support a treaty and partnership system with its allies and friends that has been a foundation for stability and growth in East Asia since the end of World War II.

China wants to tilt the balance of power in the region so that it has more influence and the U.S. less. But the red line policy is a challenge for China as well: how will it react if the lines it draws are crossed by the U.S. and other countries?

China claims sovereignty over Taiwan. It says it owns islands in the South China Sea also claimed (and in some cases garrisoned) by Taiwan, Vietnam, the Philippines, Malaysia and Brunei. Beijing says islands in the East China Sea administered by Japan rightfully belong to China. It asserts jurisdiction over the surrounding waters of all these islands.

Although often treated as separate issues, the Chinese claims are linked and part of a strategic fabric. Taiwan's Deputy Defense Minister Andrew Yang explained in a recent interview with Defense News that if China took control of Taiwan and had bases there it would open the door for Chinese power projection into both the East and South China seas.

'Taiwan would become an important hub and stepping stone for China to exert and expand its presence in the South China Sea, which is certainly not in the U.S. interest,' he said. 'It would immediately challenge U.S. strategic calculations and its security umbrella in the Asia-Pacific region.' Yang added that if Taiwan became part of China, 'then immediately the United States will lose a vital interest in this part of the world.'"

The question that is seemingly vexing officials in the Obama administration is whether shoring up the defenses of an obvious bulwark against Chinese expansionism worth the "damage" to Sino-U.S. relations should such a sale be approved:

"More difficult for the U.S. to finesse is Taiwan's request for 66 advanced F-16 jet fighters to replace 145 older models of the same aircraft. The sale is strongly opposed by China. Some U.S. analysts have called for a reassessment of arms transfers to Taiwan. They argue that doing so would smooth relations with China and defuse an Asian flash point.

When the Obama administration authorized the sale in January 2010 of $6.4 billion in arms to Taiwan, including missile systems and transport helicopters, China suspended all military contacts with the U.S. for about a year.

Washington is due to make decision by Oct. 1 on Taiwan's request for the new F-16s. A possible compromise that may be less objectionable to China could involve the U.S. upgrading Taiwan's existing F-16s to make them more capable.

Whatever the outcome, it will be a litmus test of U.S. resolution in the face of Beijing's red line diplomacy."

Michael Turton has pointed out on numerous occasions on The View from Taiwan  how denying such sales to Taiwan would not deter China from pressing its numerous (not to mention questionable) territorial claims. The issue is also complicated by the fact that the support given by the administration of Ma Ying-jeou 馬英九 for the arms package is rather tepid at best (it was the Kuomintang 國民黨, remember, that blocked earlier arms sales proposals in the legislature during the previous administration, when the KMT was an opposition party). Support for Taiwan, however, is one of those few issues where the conservatives have got it right, and the Obama administration should not hesitate to provide the arms that Taiwan's military needs, Chinese objections be damned. Close American allies in the region, such as Japan and the Philippines, who are embroiled in their own nasty territorial spats with China, will no doubt be paying close attention to what the U.S. ultimately decides.

Attack of the bubble people

Taiwan is a safety country! All that grill-work on the front of this residential building, just down the street from mine, is for decorative purposes only.

One of my Facebook friends this afternoon related on the social networking site the experience a Japanese friend of his recently had:

"I lost my wallet at 新竹 HSR station, but I had to leave there as I need to take a last train... I thought I have to talk to 新竹 station when I arrive 台北 and maybe have to ask my creditcard/bank companies to cancel my cards. But the fact was not. When I arrived 台北, I heard an announcement calling me in JAPANESE! Some kind Taiwanese found my wallet and passed it to 新竹 station staff. Taiwan, what a country. Taiwanese, what a people..."

It’s a nice story, but the responses it generated were all-too-predictable. In addition to similar testimonials, there were a number of rose-tinted remarks left in the comments section, a sampling of which follows (those of you with sensitive stomachs are advised to have a paper bag handy):

“Only in Taiwan!”

“Taiwanese people are incredible!”

“...amazing Taiwan!”

“Amazing stories! It happens only in Taiwan!”

“Taiwan touches your heart :-)”

“Taiwanese are stunning people!! And that's a fact.”

“wonderful really a blessed country in many ways”

“This is why we love Taiwan !!!”

“I think it's 'cause the standard of living's so high, few people turn to thievery”

“..that and the fact that these people are CIVILISED...”

I have no doubt that the anecdotes are all true, and I believe the above responses are genuine in their enthusiasm for the honesty of the people. After all, one of the nice things about living in Taiwan is its relative safety. However, two things came to mind while I was reading the above postings. First, that the comments (as far I can tell) come almost exclusively from Westerners and not Taiwanese; and that I was reading these while sitting in an apartment that is completely encased in barred windows, despite the fact that it's five stories above street-level (see above photo).

Taiwan – both the land and its people – can be wonderful at times, but let’s face it, many of the Western and Japanese residents here live their lives in a bubble, protected from most of the harsh realities of daily life that exist for many of the local people. Most of us will never be the victims of crime during our stays here, and the fact that we are so obviously different also serves on occasion to act as a buffer between us and those among our host population who like to make trouble. That fact that even windows in high-rise residences have bars on them seems to suggest that their owners don’t quite share the same enthusiastic appreciation for the honesty of their fellow countrymen that can be seen in the comments above.

So here are a few stories of my own. There is the American friend of mine who had his camera stolen from a bench on the grounds of the National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts 台灣美術館 in T'aichung 台中. Granted, it was at night, and he was making out with a girl on the bench in question and thus not concentrating on what was happening around him, but the thief certainly took a big risk in creeping up to make off with the camera. Then there was the time my wife stopped off at a convenience store in Taichung, leaving a small paper bag filled with a few personal items hanging from her scooter while she went inside. When she came outside a few moments later, the bag was gone, along with the top-of-the-line Chinese-English electronic dictionary that was inside it.

As for me, the only time I’ve ever been a victim of theft was here in Taiwan. One afternoon while I was hiking in Tak'eng 大坑, someone broke into my parked scooter, and made off with an expensive Seattle Mariners MLB jacket that I had stowed under the seat. I could go on about seeing parked cars with their windows smashed; or of the two neighbors, in two different locations where I've lived, who were taken away by the police in handcuffs; or of the woman who sued me after she went through a red light and hit me (she and her gangster-looking fiancé first demanded I compensate her for damages to her bike, as well as her medical bills, but when I refused, she filed a complaint. However, in front of an arbitrator, I presented the police report that blamed her for not stopping at the traffic signal, and a CCTV video that clearly showed her going through the intersection even though everyone else had stopped. She ended up getting nothing). I could go on, but the point is not that Taiwan is a dangerous society (it isn’t), but that it isn’t the low-crime paradise, populated almost exclusively by kind-hearted honest Good Samaritans, which some people like to pretend it is. Taiwanese society is a relatively safe one, especially for foreign residents and visitors (at least those from countries other than in Southeast Asia), but you still need to use common sense, and keep a proper sense of perspective.

“Although it was not my wallet which I had left on the train, I got my Gitzo tripod back. I reported my loss at the train station or calling the train station. They shipped it to me at my mother's address. When a niece of mine who was living with my mother at the time heard about it, she said that it would happen only in Japan.”

The above comment was left by a Japanese woman in regards to the same Facebook post. The fact that the woman’s (presumably) Japanese niece was surprised that this could happen outside of Japan suggests that perhaps “Only in Taiwan” might be overstating the case a little.

I’ll leave you with my own tale:

One afternoon I was driving on the freeway when my car developed engine trouble. I pulled over to the side of the road, and when it became clear that car wasn’t going to move, I started walking along the shoulder toward an off-ramp in the distance. A farmer in a small truck pulled up ahead of me, and offered to give me a ride to the nearest service station, which I accepted. It was only after he had dropped me off, and I had arranged for a tow truck to get my car, that I realized I had left my wallet on the seat in the farmer’s truck.

A couple of days later, the farmer stopped by my home, using the street address listed on my driver’s license. He returned the wallet, contents intact, and refused to accept any gifts in gratitude. I was not only grateful to have the wallet back, but also impressed that the farmer had traveled so far out of his way to return it to me (he could have mailed it to the address).

This happened in California.

Meanwhile, here in Taiwan, someone has been using my Mariners jacket to keep themselves warm during the cooler months.

A mysterious word in Japanese, all that's left on a fading storefront sign.

Trailblazing

Same planet, different worlds:

A female expat blogger posts on how wonderful (Western) women have it in Taiwan compared to some other places, while the BBC ascribes Taiwan's unbelievably low birth rate to the problems local women face in a traditional society. You make the call.

Compass Magazine. Sometimes the brown-nosing editors, who are so adept at making silk purses out of sows' ears, will include a truly useful article on things to do in the T'aichung 台中 area, such as this one, which led me to check out the Nanliao Chuk'eng Old Path 南寮竹坑古道 this afternoon. OK, so the "vast oceans of grass" didn't really "seem to reach out to the heavens", and the directions for getting there weren't very helpful (my wife actually showed me the way a couple of weeks ago). Still, I wouldn't have known about this trail if it hadn't been for the magazine, so I thank the good folks at Compass for the informative article, and I hope to read more of the same in future issues. Less sycophancy, more information please!

The Nanliao Zhukeng Old Path consists of four short trails (a main trail, plus an A, B and C - I walked them all today with the exception of the short B spur) which form a loop that takes a couple of hours to complete at an easy gait. The path here is hardly a "hike", but it does make for a nice stroll, and if the weather is good (like it was this afternoon), the views out to sea aren't bad. I started at the Nanliao Village end, where the route first makes its way past a cemetery:

Though it's right in the middle of Ghost Month 中元節, things were pretty dead here (rim shot), so I kept moving along on the main path. Down in the ravine to my left was Trail C, which I used on the return leg of my walk. This picture was taken looking down on a rest area by an old well (dating from 1746), which can't be seen in the upper-left corner:

Continuing down (and past a mountain that supposedly resembled a carp, though I missed the association at the time, and thus didn't take a good picture of it. Next time, I promise), the views out to sea were pretty good. If you don't mind the occasional power station, that is:

Trail A branches off from the main route, and leads to a lookout point. Here's another view of the power station, this time with the No. 3 Freeway 國道三號 in the foreground:

This is about as pretty as it gets on the heavily built-up, industrialized west coast of Taiwan, folks.

The main trail ends at a parking lot in Chuk'eng, right under the freeway:

It had taken me almost an hour to reach the end, though I did take my time, took a lot of pictures, and stopped to use my binoculars. From the parking lot, it was a short walk over to the start of Trail C, located at the bottom of the above-mentioned ravine. The grassland scenery brought to mind images of the American Midwest. For some reason, I also kept thinking of Roy Rogers and Apple Valley:

According to the sign in front, this is a Sacred Fig, the same kind of tree the Buddha was sitting under when he had his "A ha!" moment:

Trail C ends in front of a wealthy family's ancestral temple, closed to the public...:

...but just a short walk back to my faithful scooter. A bus was also parked nearby. The very devout (or extremely superstitious) driver had enlisted the divine help of the deities Doraemon ドラえもん and Nobita-kun 野比のび太 in order to keep himself, and his passengers, safe from malevolent demons, such as the one visible in the reflection on the windshield:

The Nanliao Zhukeng Old Path turned out to be an enjoyable couple of hours of walking. Hardly demanding, yes, but it would probably make for a good outing with the family. If you go on a sunny day such as today, be sure to apply the sunscreen, as there is very little shade along the route. I don't mind being brown, but you know how our Taiwanese relations and associates feel about these things.

Happy trails to you:

Oh, that Post!

Reckoned there was a storm a-comin' my way - turned out I reckoned wrong.

The China Post 英文中國郵報, "Taiwan's Leading English-Language Newspaper Since 1952". "Trapped in 1952" more like it, seeing as the Post still likes to view itself as the ideological English-language mouthpiece of an authoritarian one-party state, despite the fact that Taiwan has been a multi-party democracy with a free press (in theory, at least) since the middle of the 1990's. Throw in the poorly-translated China News Agency articles, using terms and expressions that were popular in the 1890's, not to mention sexist observations that haven't titillated most societies since Ike was in the White House, and you have "Taiwan's Most Entertaining English-Language Newspaper", at least.

Stuck in a time-warp though it may be, the editors of the China Post are aware of the fact that much of the world tends to overlook the Republic of China 中華民國. So when foreigners do pay attention, or at least stop by for a visit, the Post's writers get all excited (unless the visitor is a "troublemaker" like Rebiya Kadeer or the Dalai Lama). Take, for example, this opening paragraph from today's Prime Time supplement (italics are mine):

"This weekend's Beastie Music Festival is an ambitious endeavor. No fewer than 100 indie bands will perform on four musical stages, with a handful of acts coming from as far away as Japan and Korea."

Perhaps it's because I grew up in a huge landmass, but Japan and Korea don't seem all that far away to me. I can't imagine a music festival going on in my hometown of Sacramento, for example, and read the Sacramento Bee gushing how bands were coming from as far away as Seattle or Denver.

Ah, Japan. The (I assume) youthful Western entertainment writers employed by the China Post might get enthused about things that come from Taiwan's former colonial overseer, but the dinosaurs in charge of the paper still see the Empire of Japan 大日本帝国 and its Imperial Army 大日本帝国陸軍 when it comes to historical matters. Today's front page had a (very) short article on the indictment of a Taiwanese aboriginal publicity-hound...sorry, I mean legislator who has been indicted by Japanese authorities over an incident at the infamous Yasukuni Shrine 靖国神社...two years ago. But what was even more revealing was this example of historical revisionism found in what should have been a simple blurb for a hotel promotion (italics mine again):

"From now until the end of September, the (Leader Taroko Village) will be light [sic] out every night at [sic] after 8 p.m. to welcome guest [sic] and to celebrate the releasing of "Seediq Bale" by the director of Cape No. 7, Wei Te-shen [sic]. The movie centers on the history of Taroko heroes who fought the Japanese invasion during the 1930s."

The above paragraph refers to the Wushe Incident 霧社事件. For those of you who don't know your history, Japan and China fought a war from 1894-5, which resulted in China's defeat. In the Treaty of Shimonoseki 下関条約, the Qing Empire 清朝 ceded Taiwan to Japan, and Japanese forces landed on the northwest coast of the island in May of 1895. Resistance was fierce, but the Japanese soon assumed control of their new dependency (though the last rebellion wasn't put down until 1915). The point is that there was no "invasion" - Taiwan was handed over to Japan under the terms of a diplomatic agreement between Beijing and Tōkyō. Furthermore, even if the initial landings of the Japanese military could be called an "invasion", by the time of the Wushe Incident in 1930, things had been quiet for over 15 years (which is why the uprising was such a shock to the Japanese authorities). And, finally, there is the reference to the aboriginal fighters being "heroes", an obvious attempt to include non-Han Chinese 漢族 peoples in the struggle against Japanese imperialism that took place in China between 1931 and 1945. It's doubtful that Mona Rudao and his compatriots were fighting for Taiwan's "retrocession" into the loving arms of the Chinese motherland, but that doesn't stop the Post from turning a hotel promotion into a Greater China piece of propaganda.

Yes, you gotta love Taiwan's Leading English-Language Newspaper Since 1952.

Whither Tokyo Journal?

Back in the Nineties when I was living in Tōkyō 東京 (good god, what is it really that long ago?), one of my primary sources for information was the magazine Tokyo Journal. Published every month, it combined entertainment listings with interesting articles on Tōkyō in specific, and Japan in general. Unlike Compass Magazine, the rag that “serves” the foreign community here in T'aichung 台中, the writers weren’t afraid to tackle controversial topics, or make critical comments on the state of current affairs in Japan. This was in stark contrast to Compass, where seldom is heard a discouraging word about Taiwan’s third-largest city. Tokyo Journal would feature well-written articles by the likes of the late, great Alan Booth (The Roads to Sata, Looking for the Lost), and the restaurant reviews by Rick Kennedy were well-worth checking out when deciding on where to go to eat. In Compass, on the other hand, dining establishments seemingly are allowed to submit their own (naturally) glowing reviews, which are then printed verbatim, meaning you’ll have to look elsewhere for an unbiased overview of the city’s dining scene (and good luck with that!).

In all fairness, Compass is a free publication, and relies on its advertisers to stay that way, so it can’t afford to bite the proverbial hands that feed it. With Tokyo Journal, on the other hand, one paid for all that evenhandedness. Still, it does get a little nauseating to read the level of pandering the editors of Compass (Douglas Habecker and Courtney Donovan Smith) stoop to each month when it comes to their reporting on the administration of current Taichung mayor Jason Hu 胡志強. There must be some extremely brown noses on the staff of Compass by now. But I digress.

In addition of interesting articles, TJ had an extensive listing of monthly events going on in the greater Tokyo area. There were movie reviews, as well as listings for upcoming concerts, exhibitions, festivals and so on. Along with the usual announcements for rock concerts and kabuki 歌舞伎 performances, Tokyo Journal would also inform its readers of more avant-garde goings on like underground theater and butoh 舞踏 dance, to give just a couple of examples. Although the magazine could easily be found in all the major bookstores that stocked English-language titles, I preferred to subscribed to TJ so that I would have all that information at my fingertips at the beginning of each month. There were no other publications at that time (other than Pia, which required Japanese-reading skills) which so thoroughly covered the numerous things to see and do in Tōkyō (Metropolis was called Tokyo Classified back then, and Tokyo Weekender was mainly aimed at the ex-pat corporate crowd – of interest only if you wanted to know which embassy parties Bill Hersey had recently attended).

So what’s brought on all this nostalgia? Recently, someone posted a question on Lonely Planet’s Thorn Tree Forum asking about theater performances in Tokyo. My first response was to reply and suggest checking out Tokyo Journal. So you can imagine my surprise when, before doing so, I went to TJ’s homepage and learned that it was now a quarterly publication. Even worse, it appears that its most recent edition was put out last December. Clearly, something has gone wrong in the years since I moved away. Empires rise and fall, and so do publications, it seems. I wish I could at least read some of the classic articles from past editions, but even that doesn’t seem possible on the web site. It’s sad to see old favorites fading away like old soldiers.

And to think I’m stuck with Compass. Good thing I have a lot of salt on hand – I need it when reading all of its “articles” or “reviews” each month!

Taken in my neighborhood, this pictures shows banners that advertise some kind of medical treatment using electric therapy. My wife thinks this is just a 21st-century version of snake oil, which might explain the Japanese name Morita モリタ, thus making it appear to be from Japan, and therefore more believable.

Date spots

It's hard to believe (but then again, not, considering where I am), but the Ch'ingshui Service Area 清水服務區, located on National Highway No. 3 福爾摩沙高速公路 (aka 國道三號) is considered a local sightseeing spot. This is supposedly due to the "scenic night view" to be seen from the rest area, but in actuality there are much better viewpoints in  Qingshui and around. That doesn't stop the hordes from coming, though obviously the main reason is to eat and shop. This evening, however, the service area was relatively quiet. As my wife suggested, seeing as today is Chinese Valentine's Day 情人節, perhaps most couples are at motels instead. Hubba hubba...

A small aquarium that included some jellyfish drew a lot of interest. Amber took a few pictures which can be seen on her blog.

The Korean Wave hasn't apparently washed up in Qingshui yet, but signs of Cool Japan were everywhere.

Father and daughter in our Okinawa 沖縄 outfits.

The heartwarming story of Taiwan Coffee.