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）

There's nothing on Tom's plate (so what else is new?)

We had a bit of a scare yesterday evening when my daughter threw up immediately after finishing dinner at a hot pot 火鍋 restaurant, and then a couple of more times after we got home. A trip to the emergency room at the city hospital and an examination in the Pediatrics department, followed by a diagnosis of a stomach bug (probably brought on by the start of a cold) and some medicine being prescribed did much to alleviate our worry, as did the relatively peaceful night's sleep enjoyed by Amber last night. Once again, I was left to admire the efficiency of Taiwan's national health insurance system (in and out of the ER in under an hour, at a total cost to us of NT450 - that's $15 or ¥1280), and wonder why can't a:) more of Taiwan's social systems be run this well; and b:) America get its act together, and join the rest of the developed world in setting up a universal system of health care coverage for all its people?

I don't want to get started on the likes of Glenn Beck or Rush Limbaugh, not when I have the latest Tom Plate commentary on my screen at the Japan Times ジャパンタイムズ website. "Paranoids feast on China's 'peaceful rising'" is the usual Plate offering - seemingly even-handed, but lacking in-depth research and supporting facts, with a conclusion of such naivety that's hard to believe Plate has a doctorate (he's on leave from UCLA):

"Paranoid people tend to live longer, goes the old joke. And so it is in this spirit only — not out of a desire to engage in Cold War China-bashing — that we raise concerns about China. So here's the paranoid's question: Just what is China really up to? The facts are as follows. In parallel with its astonishing and commendable economic rise, China has put together new military architecture that's enough to give one shivers. Of course, the rising military syndrome is hardly unique to China. By and large, economic growth and military buildups go hand in hand."

From the beginning, Plate makes clear that he doesn't believe China's military build-up and modernization is a threat. If he did, it's doubtful that he would label those who do as being "paranoid", and engaging in "Cold War China-bashing". After all, India is doing it too, as Plate mentions in the next paragraph:

"...even India has been sharpening its sticks and buying all sorts of military stuff. And this is in the historic land of Gandhi. It is rapidly lathering on layers of military muscle as its economy continues to upsurge."

Naturally, however, Plate doesn't mention that one reason India is upgrading its military capabilities is the threat it feels is coming from China, which has been making claims on Indian territory in Arunachal Pradesh, as well as being a long-time ally of India's rival, Pakistan. In fact, Plate makes no mention of Chinese claims to any other nation's territories, with one exception - Taiwan. There are no references to the Spratly Islands, the Paracels, the Senkakus 尖閣諸島 or the East China Sea 東シナ海:

"This bustling offshore island (Taiwan), in the daunting shadow of the colossus of China's mainland, is becoming more paranoid than American turkeys approaching Thanksgiving. It is particularly alarmed about the increase of short-range missiles pointed at them — now said to be close to 1,500. That's roughly one Chinese missile for every 23 square kilometers of Taiwan's turf. And while China's missile count continues to mount, tiny Taiwan's territory does not. From a paranoid's perspective, this is not restful. Thus, a recently released report from Taiwan's Ministry of National Defense 中華民國國防部 claims that China's buildup has even gotten to the point where it is capable of deterring the intervention of other foreign militaries — such as America's or Japan's — were it to go to war against the island. It must be noted that Beijing considers Taiwan an integral part of China, and from its perspective any use of force on its part would be an internal political matter, not an outside act of aggression. But legal niceties aside, the overall regional balance of military power may in fact be at the tipping point."

So by Plate's own admission, there are a lot of missiles pointed at Taiwan; Taiwan doesn't pose a threat to China; and the buildup is reaching a point where it could theoretically deter the US or Japan from coming to Taiwan's assistance. He even quotes a RAND Corporation study that pretty much says the same things. And yet, he still feels this is all paranoia:

"China's government constantly proclaims a policy of 'peaceful rising' even as it enlarges its international space economically and diplomatically. At the same time the Taiwan people have elected a government committed to peaceful negotiations with the mainland over the political future of Taiwan, specifically voting out the government that had been aggressively committed to Taiwan's formal independence. So the paranoid's question is simple: If the mainland's peaceful and bilateral relations with Taiwan are now so reasonable and promising, why is China barging ahead with its arms buildup as if there's no tomorrow?"

Yes, why? And Plate's solution?:

"...a single spark of doubt about the sincerity of China's peaceful intentions could ignite a wildfire of fear and suspicion that could unnecessarily complicate its life and return world politics to a binary state of neo-Cold War. So, how about, for starters, Beijing removing a few hundred of those missiles aimed at little Taiwan as a gesture of its true personal warmth (and aim them nowhere else)? This at least could allow some of the world's internationally oriented paranoids to finally get some rest — until the next paranoid crisis, of course."

It's all so simple, and all so unlikely to happen, of course. China's military posturing vis-a-vis Taiwan gives it great leverage (along with growing economic interdependence) in negotiations with an ever-more-amenable KMT 中國國民黨. Why would Beijing be willing to turn down the heat, when the grand prize of Taiwan is getting closer to its grasp? To quote a hoary cliche (or a Nirvana lyric), "just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not after you". It's almost as hard to understand why people like Tom Plate seem so trusting of China's intentions despite plenty of evidence to the contrary as it is to try and figure out why a significant number of Americans want to deny health care to a large segment of their fellow citizens. Here in Taiwan, I'm covered - by both the health insurance system and Chinese missiles!

Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear...

Today was a beauty, weather-wise, with clear blue skies and warm, pleasant temperatures. The three of used this nicest of days to take a step back into Taiwan's past by visiting an old train station dating back to the Japanese period. T'aian Station 泰安車站 on the old Mountain Route 舊山線 of the Western Railway Line 縱貫線 dates back to 1910, and was in service until 1998, when a new double-tracked Mountain Route was opened, along with a newer Taian Station. Today, the old station sits along a quiet country lane, in front of a large hill and facing old homes and rice fields.

The original wooden station building was destroyed in the 1935 Shinchiku-Taichū earthquake 1935年新竹－台中地, and was rebuilt in sturdier but less attractive concrete. There is a monument erected by the Japanese which lists the damage caused to bridges, roadbeds, stations and tunnels by the quake:

Amber enjoyed blowing bubbles, throwing rocks and walking around on the platform and tracks. I did as well, with the only disappointment lying with a signposted hiking trail, which looked promising as it headed up the forested hill behind the station. However, it soon disappeared into the underbrush as it became obvious that trail maintenance was not a high priority:

After checking out the old station (which didn't take long), we drove about five minutes to the modern T'aian Station, built on an elevated platform about five stories (I forgot to count the flights of stairs as we walked up) above the surrounding countryside. There, Amber and I waited for the train to take us back to Fengyuan 豐原, while my wife drove on ahead to meet us there. What the new station lacks in architectural charm, it makes up for in great views. Nine minutes, two stops and 15NT (45¢/¥40) later, we were back in Fengyuan at the end of a lazy Sunday afternoon, just the way the Small Faces would've wanted it: