CHAPTER 155

Original: 2015-01-20

Rewritten: 2026-05-19

Our four-person tour group also ventured beyond downtown Taipei, and we left with very favorable impressions of the local people, places, and culture.

The four of us wandered through the sloping village lanes of Jiufen, squeezing through the crowds. We encountered many young ethnic Chinese tourists wearing T-shirts printed with various slogans and symbols - most likely Hong Kongers.

The locals had little difficulty identifying Hong Kong people. Both a restaurant proprietress and a taxi driver remarked, in essence, that once someone spoke Mandarin, they could immediately tell whether the speaker carried the distinctive “heavy” Hong Kong accent. Non-Hong Kong people who learn Mandarin usually strive for standard pronunciation. It was rather amusing.

Naturally, the most important activity was satisfying the mouth and stomach. In the village, we ate stinky tofu and chewed on sesame peanut candy, which reminded me of Lunar New Year sweets from Sai Ying Pun in Hong Kong and my ancestral hometown in Chaoyang. We bought ceramic ocarinas as souvenirs, though to this day I still do not know how to play mine. My wife purchased some hand-painted linen clothing. We all drank sweet orange juice to soothe our throats and “clear the lungs” against the stubborn mist that seemed to imprison the little mountain town.

To prevent theft, mountain settlements often keep village dogs - practically a Taiwanese specialty, and somewhat known even in Vancouver. Their appearance is fairly uniform, resembling the mongrel dogs of Hong Kong’s New Territories and outlying islands. Compared with those, their ears are proportionally larger and their bodies smaller, somewhat like Canadian coyotes, though larger than Japanese Ina Shiba. Their fur is mostly black or dark brown, and they are said to possess formidable fighting ability. In tourist areas, however, one rarely sees their fiercer side.

Descending the mountain, we passed through Jinguashi Geological Park. Up close, one could see large rocks colored somewhere between gold and rust, gently washed by trickling streams. From afar, they resembled flowing gold rushing northward toward the sea - the famous Yin-Yang Sea. The western side appeared like dark rusty water, while the eastern side shimmered golden-yellow, the contrast sharply divided. It truly was a wonder to behold. Mount Keelung stood firmly to the left.

Beyond Jiufen lies Shifen, another small town, and farther west-southwest is Pingxi, famous for releasing sky lanterns.

The lantern-release area is around the old Shifen railway station, full of rustic local charm. A single railway track runs year-round through the rural towns, and only a one-car train travels along it - entirely sufficient, following the old Japanese style.

The lanterns released are Kongming lanterns. Tourists make wishes, writing words and drawing pictures upon the lanterns before igniting the fuel inside. The heated air lifts them skyward. One lantern after another rises into the distance until the sky sparkles with scattered lights like stars, bringing comfort and delight to the heart.

Blessings and good wishes drift with the wind into the mountains and forests. We were told they never cause fires because volunteer “fire-risk monitoring teams” retrieve the fallen lanterns, resell them to lantern merchants for recycling, earn a little extra income for themselves, and help prevent fires at an early stage.

Looking generally at the dogs in the rural towns, they all appeared calm, composed, and self-possessed, minding their own business. Unlike some pampered Western dogs in Canada, some wag their tails incessantly while others bare their teeth proudly.

In Keelung there is Yehliu Geopark, extending into the sea and filled with countless weathered rock formations sculpted over thousands of years. Their shapes are endlessly varied, and with a little imagination, one could easily weave touching love stories around them.

Yet during this winter visit to Taiwan, the temperature still reached 30 degrees Celsius. The Canadian country bumpkins among us were caught completely off guard by the heat, forced to seek refuge in the shade. Our friends happily continued taking scenic photographs, while my wife and I became dizzy and parched under the blazing sun.

Afterward, we all went to a marketplace restaurant for local specialty dishes. Entering the tiny shop and looking at the few “special dishes” listed on the wall, we realized there were hardly any choices at all. Then, with a loud thud, a waitress placed before us a huge bowl of “dingbian cuo” - essentially hot savory soup with rice cakes soaking inside. Since the specialty shop sold little else, the four of us each “had” to eat a bowl before paying and leaving. At once we became nostalgic for home - Vancouver certainly offered far more dining choices.

We had long admired Taiwan’s famed Eslite bookstores, yet to our surprise, the Ximending branches sold mostly clothing rather than books, having effectively become retail shops.

At last, in the flagship store, we did see many books, though there was little Chinese history to be found. Chinese communities avoiding discussion of Chinese history left both of us rather disappointed. This trend of de-Sinicization naturally attracted some Hong Kong immigrants.

We also visited a preserved military dependents’ village in the city center - the simple housing originally built for Nationalist soldiers and their families who retreated to Taiwan. There, we gained a better understanding of the conditions of those earlier times.

One impression remained especially deep: Taiwanese people, particularly the younger generation, displayed first-rate service attitudes. They worked diligently, took pride in their jobs, and were far friendlier than people in Hong Kong.

Postscript:

As people grow older, one learns there are even tour groups centered around “enjoying” medical services abroad, and Taiwan has become one of the destinations. Where there is demand, there will naturally be goods and services to meet it.