In Taiwan
I know something that not a lot of people know. It only takes a taxi, two buses, a subway, two planes, a ferry and a short motorcycle ride to get to paradise. And if you ever wondered if there are jet skis in paradise, the answer is: yes.
On the back of my powerful aquatic steed, I am hurtling towards the shore line of white sand and coral. The driver of the jet ski suddenly skids, turns and dips and I am thrown into the air in one smooth motion. I sink into the cool clear water, hoping to emerge with Ursula Andress-esque composure but manage only a sloppy doggy paddle back to land. I lie back on the beach, rubbing the salt water from my mascara soaked eyes. It was worth the journey.
The Penghu Islands are an archipelago off the western coat of Taiwan. Frequented by Taiwanese tourists, but often overlooked by international visitors, the islands manage to strike the difficult balance between beach holiday fun and authentic rural experience. Lying on my stomach on a rickety wooden bridge over a pool where two giant turtles have made their home, I try to throw a coin onto one of the huge creatures’ backs. If the coin stays put, so says the legend, my wish will be granted. A few hundred Taiwanese dollars later, my friends and I can leave with the satisfaction of knowing that our wildest dreams will soon be realized. This kitsch turtle lair, complete will wall-to-wall painted coral and psychedelic spot lighting, lies beneath one of the many Buddhist temples that punctuate the local landscape. Another temple takes its home among the colossal roots and branches of a more than three hundred year old tree which has grown up, out and through the ground beneath, curling into a majestic maze of wood.
Back on the Taiwanese mainland now and the capital city, Taipei, is the main port of call for most travelers. As I take my first steps into Taipei, the staff at the airport hand me an immigration card which welcomes me to the Republic of China. This is not to be confused with the People’s Republic of China or just ‘China’ as most of us know it. The history of Taiwan is wrought with fierce struggles for freedom from both China and Japan. Taiwan’s independence is still contested by China, who insist that the island belongs to them. In the country itself, Chinese ownership is null and void.
The large historical monuments in the city, dedicated to those who fought for freedom, echo this sentiment. At the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall, the controversial Taiwanese leader, whose portrait once hung in place of Mao’s at the entrance to Beijing’s Forbidden City, sits enthroned inside this royal blue and white monument. At Sun Yat-Sen’s Memorial Hall, visitors can see the legacy of the man who is considered to be the founding father of Taiwan depicted through his personal artifacts as well as through interactive displays.
If the beauty of the Korean cityscape lies in its uniformity, the beauty of Taipei lies in its diversity. A ten-storey red brick tower overlooks seven stories of glass and concrete. Circles of smoky incense rise above the terracotta roof of Long Shan Temple, where locals gather to pray. In the background, Taipei 101, the immense feat of engineering recorded in 2004 as the tallest building in the world until it was overtaken in 2010 by Burj Khalifa in Dubai, can be seen from almost any spot in the city centre.
As with many cities in Asia, Taipei lights up at night – in both the literal and metaphorical sense. Across the city’s many night-markets you can feast your eyes, your ears and your taste buds on a vast array of stalls teeming with tasty street food, clothes at knock down prices and a glittering spread of trinkets. I traverse my way through the crowd, sampling the local fare – dried guava, traditional Taiwanese sausage, a menagerie of barbequed goods, onion breads and more. I smell a sickeningly sour odor in the air which turns out to be the hugely popular chou dofu – or ‘stinky tofu’ as tourists call it. I stop to give it a try and as the soft fried cube starts to dissolve on my tongue, the overwhelming fermented flavor (which is loved by many) takes over and I rush for the nearest beverage stand to look for a chaser.
And yet I don’t leave Taiwan with a bad taste in my mouth – the complete opposite, in fact. I fondly bid the city farewell. I get on my fourth and final plane of the trip and I watch the lights fade into the deep black lake that finally manages to swallow up Taipei 101 – but only as the plane gets above cloud level. Just two more buses and a taxi until home.
Photographs by Bethany Haizlett.