My Own Back Yard

Several weeks ago, on mother's day weekend to be precise, I took a short walk in my own back yard. The air was cool and crisp and the walk was leisurely and serene. It began quite normally, in fact, with me getting lost in the labyrinth of apartment buildings and shops, occasionally stopping and asking for directions. Fortunately, my time spent aimlessly walking the streets of Neihu was significantly shorter this time due to a charitable gift presented to me by one of my students. Knowing full well how much I enjoy hiking in the poisonous snake infested mountains of Taiwan, my student gave me a map of the hiking trails around my apartment. The gift, I have to say, has already come in rather handy.


I discovered several tennis courts and outdoor swimming pools, so if I should ever require a good play followed by a good soak, I now know where to get my fix. But on this particular day, the swimming would have to wait. I found the landmarks necessary to get me to the hiking trail and, had I not gotten lost before, I would have made it from door step to wilderness in five minutes flat.


My back yard is frequented by a fair number of Sunday walkers. The entrance to the trail is a wide expanse of grass and mountains. A vast number of visitors were already congregating for a quiet summer's evening. I quickly passed their noise gawking and continued on to direction where a growing number of trekkers were heading.


The trail fell down below a small hill and followed up a stream. The stream wound back and forth, past some grazing water buffalo, and through some less than elegant, but more than functional, farms. Before long, I had bypassed the majority of open land and was now in the covered forests of Neihu, lying at the base of Yangmingshan National Park.


The beginning of the trail was flat and comfortable. The humidity index was fairly low, so one would worry about having to tolerate a heady sweat. In addition, the low-lying trees offered enough protection from the sun at this point to produce a mild, chilling atmosphere for climbing through the dense thicket.

The climax of the hike was when I reached, you guessed it, more stairs. But these stairs brought most people to what they were looking for: the Yuan Chueh Waterfall. Cascading over a cliff side, this was by far the least impressive waterfall I have seen thus far in Taiwan. Wulai and Silver Stream both offer far more impressive waterfalls to check out. However, there were secrets to this waterfall that did escape my eye at first. Do you notice anything special? Click on the photo to enlarge.


That's right- carved delicately into the face of the rock to the right side of the waterfall, you can just make out the presence of a beautiful temple overlooking the expanse of falling water. Such a charming and secluded location for religious worship this place was. And the best part was, I didn't have to walk more than 20 minutes from my apartment, in the city, to get there.

From your friend living in city jungle, and the jungle jungle, Michael.

The Good Concert

In the early morning hours on the weekend of May 31^st, I, along with one hundred and fifty people boarded buses in Taipei and we made our way down to Sun Moon Lake. Although I had already vacationed there once, this return was for a unique and special reason. We were to be shown the work World Vision has accomplished for children in the Nantou region and to raise awareness of their needs with a large benefit concert.

The idea for the trip was proposed about six months prior, during one of my private lessons at World Vision Taiwan. My student of six months at the time told me they hold a concert, in conjunction with Starbucks Coffee, each year down in Sun Moon Lake. The concert was discussed periodically in our lessons over the following months until they extended to me an invitation to join them for the weekend. Delighted, and quite frankly flattered, I enthusiastically accepted.

My education, and my teaching, began on the bus ride there. Sitting with a man named Wilson, we started to engage in small talk. Not long thereafter, his heart was overcome with such happiness for the occasion, that he stood up before the entire bus and lead his fellow passengers in song. The song was a Mandarin Chinese version of the well known classic:

The more we get together, together, together

The more we get together, the happier we’ll be…

When he sat down, I turned to him and told him that there was an English version of that song as well. We spent the next few kilometers teaching one another this song in our own languages until we could sing with one another in both English and Mandarin.

Arriving at Sun Moon Lake, the day began with a presentation in a local church. Adjacent to the church was a dormitory recently built by World Vision to house indigenous students that can’t return back to their villages after schooling. We were given tours of this clean and impressive facility and met some of the young adults using this dormitory to help in their education.

The true delight of the weekend, however, came at the conclusion of this small presentation. We boarded our buses and the students directed us to their small villages deep within the mountains of central Taiwan. The trip took us though thick jungles and down dirt roads, over streams and around winding mountain passages. Finally, we arrived in the village which, although remarkably secluded was relatively modern.

We parked the cars and entered into the elementary school. For a community without a great deal of funds, it was heartwarming to watch the school principal hand to World Vision Taiwan a cheque for NT$6,000 to aid the victims of the earthquake in China. After this small ceremony, we were entertained by a small children’s choir, dressed in aboriginal robes, singing and dancing ancient indigenous melodies and steps. The loud cheers from the crowd at the end of this rare treat signaled the start of lunch. And what better ways to celebrate an indigenous community than with a pig roast. Waiting for us were not one, but two roasting wild boars along with hand-made bamboo rice, vegetables, muaji and corn. We feasted as the tribesmen did, among good company and abundant food, many years before.

One of the two suckling wild boars

Cracking open Bamboo Rice

The Great Feast

After lunch, we were given the opportunity to tour the school. On the way out of the dining hall, I was stopped by two mischievous young ones, Tom and Alan, who were very curious about me. As we sat down to chat in broken, but understandable English, more children started to gather round. Eventually, nearly thirty students were crowded around me; they interested in the first foreigner they had ever met. Some listened closely to the songs I sang for them, others asked me to share curious anecdotes about America. My favorites, however, were the ones who just sat their wide-eyed, gaping at and mystified by my strange and exotic blue eyes. Before long, I had a small audience, where I sang songs, answered simple questions and of course, performed a magic trick or two (which are always impressive no matter what language you speak).

After this transforming experience, we boarded the bus to several other locations on the tour. Unfortunately, heavy rain settled in and our trips to some gardens and farms had to be canceled. World Vision leaders decided it would be best to check in early at our hotel and freshen up before the concert that evening.

At six o’clock, we were cordially escorted to the rain location for the concert. As I had expected a small, quiet concert, I was floored by the scale and grandeur of the event. Lights, smoke machines, speakers, video equipment, screens: you name anything one might find at a professional concert for an A class performer and it was there at the concert that night. The evening’s spectacles included performances by popular local groups, testimonials by World Vision volunteers, aboriginal dances by young children and a speech by yours truly. That’s right. Toward the conclusion of the concert, a staff member asked me if I would go up on stage and share my feelings with the audience about the weekend. Reluctant at first, I changed my mind as I realized that it was no different from an oversized classroom. On the condition I would be given five minutes to think about what I was going to say, I agreed. In less than a minute’s time, however, I was walking up to the front of the audience set to make a speech.

I talked about the wonder and joy I witnessed that weekend and how proud I was to be teaching for such a special and thoughtful organization such as World Vision Taiwan. I talked about the melodic language exchange on the bus ride down; I mentioned the hearty meal I received at lunch; and most importantly, I shared with them the lesson I learned, albeit corny, that morning with the indigenous youngsters, “Children believe in two things: human compassion and magic. And that is exactly what this is- magic.”

The next morning, I rose early for lunch and then hit the town on my own. At this point the rain had all but moved away and in its place was a fine and warm sunny day. The view from our balcony provides a stunning comparison of the two days’ weather.

Saturday

Sunday

As I made my way down to the lake area, I remembered fondly the last time I was here. Although it was cold in December, the place hadn’t changed much. The building were still there, the mountains rolling in the distance. The lake even maintained its charming calm. Boats rolled gently in the water and I, at rest with the happiness of the location, let my stress and worry (of which there was already very little to begin with) evaporate with the morning sun.

As I continued down to water, I found the original location of the concert. It was a shame the outdoor concert had to be cancelled because this location was particularly stunning.

With the sun still greeting us warmly in the morning, we then made our way to an organic tea farm. During our penultimate stop before our return back to Taipei, we learned about the growing, harvesting, and fermenting process of tea. As we made our way up the short path to the farm, we walked among the newly budding tea leaves surrounding the old farm building.

At the farm, I noticed a large group of people huddling around a something to the side of the building. Most had passed right on by, either with disinterest or with a sudden shriek! My curiosity got the best of me and in the end, I found myself with the other folks looking at the largest spider many of us had ever seen!

The tea farm was an absolute joy! Broken into two groups, our group was first shown a movie and a short presentation about the tea farm. Although it was entirely in Chinese, I managed to understand some as someone who has gotten rather fluent in speaking about tea in Chinese. The rest was translated to me by a very kind and equally patient friend. When the presentation was finished, we were served fresh Organic Assam Black tea and Organic Assam Milk Tea brewed with water from a rushing mountain spring. The black tea was so good, it prompted me to purchase my own set of tea at the end. The milk tea, as well, proved to taste nothing like I have ever tasted before. There were hints of spices like cinnamon or nutmeg that put this tea into the number one spot of any tea I have ever tried in my life.

After the tea tasting, we were given a guided tour of the working farm. We wandered through galleries, open air rooms with massive drying machines and grinding machines set to prepare massive amounts of tea. I couldn’t help but feel at times I was back in Burgundy, touring the wine vineyards and cellars of some of the most famous French vignobles. Enjoy this short pictorial journey of my time at the farm.

And thus, with the fresh odor of dried tea leaves roasting in our nostrils, we made some purchases of fine organic tea, stopped for lunch at an unusual yet picturesque aboriginal stone park, and then headed home to Taipei. From your tea tasting, speech making, Sun Moon Lake raving, indigenous entertaining man from Taiwan, Michael.

Tragedy at Silver Stream Cave

Last Monday began as usual: early wake up, tea on the balcony, prepar- ations made to go hiking, and then of course, rain on my day off. The rain wasn't particularly pounding at the time, but it was enough for me to consider whether I should make for the mountains or not. With little foresight into the dangers of such a decision, I grabbed my water shoes, packed my sack, and raced out the door to the Silver Stream Cave near the Muzha Tea Gardens.

On my way to these esteemed gardens, I met a jolly soul on the bus. His English was quite good and he told me all about life, well actually, all about his life. He told me that the location I was heading happened to be where the government stores all their top secret, classified documents. He told me he moved away from mainland China because his brother was a high ranking officer there. He also told me that he was eighty years old. During this delightful yet obviously disjointed conversation, I asked two questions and received two surprising answers from him.

The first question was about his destination. He told me he was returning home after visiting his wife. I found this odd and asked him to explain. Well, as it turns out, he likes the mountains and his wife likes the city, so rather than living together, they each have their own apartment and he goes to visit her each day. The second question revolved around why he had such a high command of the English language. Well, as it turns out, he used to serve in the Navy, hence his expatriation from his brother I suppose, and studied at various naval academies in the United States. I then asked if he had ever been to the Groton Sub Base, and as it turns out, he had! This was a delightful coincidence because I went to college at Connecticut College, which happens to be on the opposite side of the Thames River.

When I arrived at the terminal stop on the bus line, I was once again in my element, surrounded by mountains and greenery. I took to a small path and climbed my way up some hefty flights of stairs. At this point, I am beginning to notice a pattern in Taiwanese hiking paths. Rather than winding normally up the side of the mountain, the Taiwanese clearly prefer the direct, and thus more strenuous straight up shoot.


Half way up, I decided to sojourn at a cool wading pool. Little did I know this would be the turning point of my little stroll up the mountainside. I dipped my already wet feet into the cool of the stream and took some lovely photographs of the rushing water. Satisfied with my rest, I gathered my belongings and took off over some wet, slanted rocks. Up until this point, I had taken extreme caution over my steps, ensuring a safe and enjoyable hike. However, a momentary lapse of judgment sent me over those slippery rocks and before I know it, my balance was thrown off kilter.

I threw my guide book up into the air, and the protruding weight of the sack on my back took me hard to the ground. My right rand slammed intensely onto a nearby rock, sending the most excruciating pains through my right arm. As soon as my hand made contact with the rock, I knew some serious damage had occurred.


Knowing that swelling would soon overtake my hand, I needed to get ice on it quickly. However, I was alone in the middle of the woods, and the closest 7/11 would be about 45 minutes away, providing me with no help. Thinking quickly, I looked at the stream and decided to put my hand into it to keep it cold. I had remembered hearing once that, in addition to keeping an injured body part cold, you ought to keep it dry as well. However, the heavy rain at this point removed this option from me, leaving me with no choice but to douse my hand in the cold water.

Unfortunately, this is a sub-tropical island and the water wasn't really that cold. I had to make a decision- should I turn back for help, or get to the waterfall. I knew that I wouldn't be able to get anywhere fast enough to get immediate aid, so I saw no harm in finishing the hike up to the waterfall. And boy, was I glad I did.

The waterfall shoots over the cliff at an impressive 60 meters. Due to the heavy rain, the waterfall was particularly impressive. Although I didn't spend long at the waterfall, I did have enough time to explore its more immediate charm. For instance, you can enter into a cave that goes behind the waterfall, up to a small temple and get stunning views of the cascades and valley.

But with the throbbing pain, I knew it was time to return back down the mountainside. Slowly traversing the slippery steps, one by one, I eventually made it down to the roadside and into a 7/11. I have learned many words here, and it's always good to be in a situation where you are required to use them. At this time, I was beyond joy at the fact that I could ask, "Do you have any ice?"

Once out of the 7/11, I caught a bus directly for the hospital. I went into the emergency room and got an x-ray. Fortunately, nothing was broken, but they were concerned about a few places that, if I overused my arm, could develop into serious fractures. They therefore wrapped me up and prescribed me some pain medication. With that, I paid about US $20, and was on my way.

Deprived of the use of my right hand, my grand companion, I was forced to turn to my often neglected left hand. Over the next few days, my left hand and I got very close as I learned to shower and get dressed, write, and even use chopsticks with it. The experiences were frustrating, but achievable.

The bandages are now off, and aside from a very deep bruise, my hand is back in working condition. So from your born again lefty in Taiwan, please follow my advice: if you are going to go hiking in the rain, take an umbrella. Your friend, Michael.

Whitewater-Ho!

On Saturday night, friends of mine and I boarded a train for Hualien in the central part of Taiwan. This was to be my second trip to Hualien, but for a much different reason. The first time, with the squid balls, our primary destination was Taroko Gorge. This time, however, we went for white water rafting.

We began early with a rice porridge breakfast- truly a breakfast for champ- ions. We then descended down the stairs of our hotel and waited patiently for the van to arrive. As we started to file into the van, the driver stopped me deliberately, gave me a crooked smile, and told me to get in the front. Certainly I wasn't about to complain as I was to be afforded the best views there.

We arrived about ninety minutes later at the rafting center and watched an inspirational safety video. As it was in Chinese, we didn't get much out of the video except that we shouldn't jump out of the boat or bring along our digital cameras. With that, we put our cameras back in the van and got a twenty minute demonstration on how to put on our life jackets.


Then, like lemmings, we all made our way down to the river, got on our rafts, and paddled away with a hoard of other people. The day was then broken up into two parts. The first came before lunch and the second, obviously, after lunch. The difference, however, was starker than the Republic of China and the People's Republic of China. The first half was lazy and, quite frankly, mostly paddling along calm water before there was any notice of "rapidy bits". It got to the point where we tied onto a motorboat and were towed along down the river.

For lunch we were given a traditional Taiwanese lunch box set amidst the stunning scenery. My friend and I were delighted to discover that our van was at this location. Therefore, we snuck in, grabbed our cameras, and smuggled them onto the raft to document our voyage along these class one rapids.

To lighten our moods, we decided to pretend we were intrepid adven- turers, and as any good adven- turers must have, we needed a theme song. Therefore, as we approached our first set of rapids, we all built up the anticipation by singing, quite loudly in fact, the Indiana Jones Theme Song. It was no coincidence, either, that as soon as we hit the first rock, we also got stuck on it. Alas, white water rafting subsequently became whitewater walking.

As we started to approach the second set of rapids, our melody was inter- rupted by the loud crash of oncoming thunder. Rain started to drop on our heads and the tension began to mount. At this point, I hit the record button and got on film the most exciting two minutes of our journey. As we approached the oncoming rapids, we were taken by no choice of ours straight for another raft stuck on a rock. Bumping into them, we dislodged their boat from their unfortunate predicament only to realize that we had usurped their thrown and now reigned over this tiny mid-river island.

Our rule was short lived as another boat immedi- ately struck us from behind. But rather than pushing us along, as we are strong rulers, their boat hopped up on top of ours. The rushing of the water at the back of the boat disturbed the weight distribution causing the raft to capsize right on the rapid. The villains trying to take our throne were launched into the water and started floating down stream. Paddles and helmets were lost to the current. Yet, while the rapids were weak, two sailors on the capsized boat were in a dangerous position: they were trapped under the over turned raft with water rushing into the boat. As we scrambled to pull a floating passerby into out raft, another team came along and restored the boat to its original position. All were saved. All was recorded. However, I assure you, the incident was not nearly as exciting as the music makes it out to be.

We were picked up where the river and the ocean meet in a place called Taitung, and were driven back up to Haulien along the most extra- ordinary coast line. Back in Haulien, we stopped for a sojourn at a local tea house before going to a fabulous Haka restaurant with tremendously scrumptious meals.

So, from your Indiana Jones and The Legend of the Whitewater Rafters, Michael.

The Lin Family Garden

On Thursdays, I am fortunately blessed with an excess- ively long midday siesta. I finish a lesson at noon and don't reconvene in the classroom until quarter to five. This gives me plenty of time to get lunch, go to the gym, or take off for hidden jewels in the city. This particular Thursday lunch event brought me to the finest example of a Chinese garden in Taipei- the Lin Family Garden.


Located in the Banchiao district of Taipei, it was no simple ride from point A to point B. In fact, no more than a few years ago, before the MRT opened up, the best way to reach this district was by train. And then, even before that, Banchiao was even considered a township outside of the city of Taipei where the seat of the local ruling government was planted. Today, easy access and planning is turning this section of Taipei into one of it's fastest growing suburbs. What used to be rolling mountains and charming rivers is now replaced by massive sky scrapers.


The Lin Family was one the most prosperous, and therefore most powerful, families in Taiwan during the Ching Dynasty. In the 18th century, Lin Ying-Yin transplanted in Taiwan from the Fujian Province in China. As master traders between Taiwan and China, the Lin Family began to accumulate vast amounts of wealth. Their master project, however, came at the distribution of salt to all of Taiwan. Ping-hou, Lin Ling-Yin's son, shared the risk and profit of this venture, and at the age of 50, returned home to Fujian with enough cash to purchase a government position for himself. Eventually he retired and returned home to Taiwan.


Clearly, Banchiao was never a place, strictly speaking, "for the birds".


During the Chang-chou and Chuan-chou clashes, Ping-hou commissioned the construction of a mansion with massive walls, comparable to any well suited fortress, solely for defense. Then in 1847, Bi-Yi hall was built and thus developed into the estate seen today.


Ping-hou had five sons, but only two were capable enough to carry on their father's and grandfather's sense of risk and expansion. In 1851, Guo-hua and Guo-fang built a 3-courtyard house next to Bi-Yi hall into the entire family eventually moved. The house was further developed by Guo-Hua's two sons- Lin Wei-rang and Lin Wei-yuan under the private tutelage of the famous scholars Lu Shi-tusen and Shie Guan-Chiau- with a house consisting of five separate courtyards and a taller order on the already impressive gardens.


After entering the gardens, I made my way along a long flowered pathway. Up to a square pavilion. To the right of me was the Lin Mansion and to the left was Lai-Ching Hall. This hall, being the tallest structure in the garden, served as a theater. Inscribed above it was the phrase "One smiles when the curtain goes up." A two storied structure, the hall was often used to quarter guests. It also gave some of the most impressive views of the surrounding countryside.


The mansion itself was quite lovely. It's construction began in 1851 and was constructed in Banchiao for convenience in collecting rent from tenants. Financing clashes between the Chang-Chou and Chuan-Chou immigrants, it is impressive the mansion still had enough funds to be built in such elaborate terms. At the front of the mansion is a small reflecting pool, symbolic of a mirror at the entranceway. Often times, landowners put mirrors at doorways so men could look at themselves and question the deeds they had done that day. The symbolism extended into the back as well, with mountain ranges protecting them from invasion.


The mansion itself has three courtyards, hence it has since become known as "The Old Three-Courtyard House." In addition to these courtyards, it has two walkways with parallel buildings on either side. The buildings were considered "protecting dragons" of the mansion that embraced the entire mansion, and in this sense, the mansion was constructed according to the following blueprints: "In a large house, nine embraces five. Three courtyards one hundred twenty doors." Essentially, the front ought to be nine bays wide with five bays making up the central unit. The "protecting dragons" embrace the five bays. Three courtyards is obvious, as evidenced by the name, and the refers to the number of windows and doors throughout the 52 rooms in the Entrance Hall, Ancestral Hall, and rear hall: a far cry from my studio apartment.


Each hall in the mansion served a different function. The entrance hall housed the sedan chair, the chair bearers, and housekeepers. The ancestral hall housed a shrine used to worship ancestral members. The main family lived on either side of the hall, while the elder members lived in the Rear Hall- a kind of retirement home in a way.


But perhaps, in my humble opinion, the most stunning aspect of this garden goes to the Banyan Shade Pool. A fairly elaborate reflecting pool doused in the shade of Banyan trees gives this unique location it's equally unique moniker. In the center of the pond is a tiny island, accessible by a stone bridge, with the words "Yun-Jin-Tsung" inscribed on a panel. From the island, you are presented with a very odd sight- a wall comprised of artificial mountain ranges. Supposedly, these mountain ranges were crafted to resemble the mountains in Chang-chou, the family's homeland. Exploration of these artificial mountains was permitted, although extreme care must be taken.



The largest quadrangular house on the estate goes to Ding Jing Hall. This was also the last part of the garden I visited on my walk. Taken from "The Great Learning" by Confucius, Ding-Jing means "To that calmness there will succeed a tranquil repose." Ding Jing hall was used as a place for entertaining guests. And, as I was making my way for the exit of this beautifully restored and immaculately maintained estate, I imagined myself a guest of one of those extraordinary parties. I pictured wonderful music, delicious foods, and bright colors as the hosts wished me off into the night.


And with my memory behind me, and the gardens, I made my way to work for some afternoon and evening classes. From a man who lived a life of ancient luxury, even if it was for only one hot and humid afternoon, Michael.