You might remember that I had a short non-fiction story published in an anthology of stories by expat women in Asia, all the way back in 2014.
Well, with the King Boat Festival coming once again - it kicks off on October 28 this year and ends one week later - Taiwan Scene has excerpted my original story and published it here:
Gods Rush In at the King Boat Festival
Although a few sections are lost - an exploration of the cultural issues surrounding being a female spirit medium, a longer discussion of my own (continued) atheism despite the peculiar and perhaps somewhat chimerical events I experienced on the beach that day in 2012, the fact that my own wishing plaque on the King Boat was for Taiwanese independence - I'm excited that the story might now reach a wider audience.
Until now, it was impossible to read unless you bought the whole anthology (which you can still absolutely do, and which I recommend, but may be difficult for someone without a Kindle device or app in Taiwan), so having a section of it available to all Taiwanese readers is great news!
Showing posts with label pingdong. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pingdong. Show all posts
Friday, October 12, 2018
Wednesday, June 6, 2018
Firewalking For Beginners: my latest for Taiwan Scene
I'm back as a guest contributor to Taiwan Scene, this time writing about firewalking in Donggang...but not the way you think. It's actually about being a female traveler faced with sexist (yes, sexist) religious traditions, and having entirely the wrong response to them - something I can only admit now.
In any case, enjoy.
In any case, enjoy.
Sunday, April 12, 2015
Downeasters: A Trip through Rural Pingdong County
I'm baaaaack!
I haven't been in Taiwan long, but I've been taking advantage of the short time since my arrival. My husband, friend and I almost immediately departed for a four-day trip around southern Taiwan, focusing on the lowermost east coast stretching from Xuhai (旭海) to Kending, while avoiding Kending town because we're just not into that scene.
The purpose? To take a trip around Gangzai (港仔), Xuhai (旭海), Manzhou (滿州), Jialeshui (佳樂水), Kending (墾丁), Mudan (牡丹) and Weeping Lake (哭泣湖) on the eastern end of Pingdong County, hike along the coast to a well-known shipwreck on one of the most isolated stretches of Taiwan's coast, the only part of the coast at least in this part of the country that lacks a coastal road. That means, to see this, you can't just drive a car to a lookout point. You have to hike along the foreshore, and let me tell you, beaches it ain't.
I'm clearly re-adjusting to Taiwan. Until I bothered to read the Chinese I thought there was a dessert shop down by the beach and thought "yay!"
We also planned a short hike to Cacevakan (I do not know how to pronounce it), the site of the ruins of a 700-year-old Paiwan village, and a short, easy circle of the Xuhai grasslands. In between we drove around the Kending peninsula and stopped at various beaches and coastal areas - some stone, some pebble, some sand, and spent a night on Weeping Lake in the mountains between Pingdong and Taidong.
This is also a special trip for me because it marks the first time I have ever driven a car on the main island of Taiwan. I have driven on Matsu before, and very briefly (like helping to park) on Orchid Island, but Taiwan itself has always terrified me. I'm an inexperienced and nervous driver in the USA, so Taiwan's inattentive scooter drivers, betel nut stand lights that make it hard to suss out actual traffic lights and general sense of all sorts of random crap being thrown at you as you go down the road have turned me into a confirmed non-driver.
Until now. You see, I've just spent the past 4 months in a small town in the Hudson Valley where you drive, or you starve. I carpooled with my sister to work and did most of the driving as I needed the practice. I took the car out on my own - a first for me. I drove more in four months than I had in 34 years, because I had to. I now feel confident enough behind the wheel that it would not be crazy to suggest me as a driver on a trip.
So, we rented a car in Pingdong as I refused to drive in Zuoying where the HSR spat us out. People say it's easy to get on the freeway from the station, but years ago we tried with my friend Emily behind the wheel, couldn't find it, and spent an hour circling Zuoying looking for a way out. NO THANK YOU. Pingdong is a smaller city, I felt that I could handle it especially if the rental office was on the outskirts (which it was), and if we then kept to highways that skirted towns and country roads. And I did! I really did! We returned the car without a scratch on it.
I would like to say that I have changed my mind about driving in Taiwan and my insistence that public transit ought to be better, that I have decided to re-think my lack of desire to visit cities with inadequate public transit such as Taichung, that I am more amenable to driving in various parts of the country. But that would be a lie. I still think public transportation is better. I will still seek out buses and trains whenever possible. I still feel that public transit outside of Taipei and perhaps Kaohsiung is insufficient, and requires the attention of the government. I am still not a proponent of driving. I would still prefer not and still recommend that others try to avoid it.
Pingdong is an incredibly scenic county. Unfortunately, it's also one you can only fully enjoy if you drive or cycle. We took Route 1 (the main highway to Kending) to Route 9 (the turnoff for the mountains to Taidong, a right-hand turn to go left because driving sucks). Then we turned on County Route 199 (199縣道), stopped at a well-known Paiwan restaurant at Weeping Lake (哭泣湖 or "ku qi hu", transliterated from Paiwan "tzukudji" - it is not an incredibly tragic lake nor is it lined with weeping willows), and then turned onto Route 199-jia (199甲) to take us down to Gangzai via Xuhai. This route will take you over low mountains and, as you near Xuhai, will spit out gorgeous views of the blue ocean rippling between green bejungled hills before you start to descend.
Before you set off on this trip, I highly recommend making reservations at Vais Paiwan （凡伊斯山野菜館) - the address is 屏東縣牡丹鄉東源村51號 along County Route 199, phone #08-883-0463, open 10-5pm. They're famous for their vegetables - don't go overboard on the meat, just order lots and lots of super-fresh, well-prepared veggies. You can also get Paiwan snacks, mountain pig and more.
Our next stop after Vais Paiwan was Xuhai's pebble beach, where flat, round pebbles make a downpour-like sound as the waves roll in.
It's also a good place to watch the sunrise, but we were there in the late afternoon. A gorgeous coastal road connects Xuhai to Gangzai (港仔), which, true to its name, has a tiny little port, with lots of pretty places to stop and take photos along the way. In Gangzai, we arrived late enough that all we could really do was get dinner and turn in early. We stayed at Li Mama's （#08-8810066）and found a fantastic dinner spot down by the water (walk back along the main road and turn right at the Earth God temple, continuing left along the short road closer to the coast - the entrance to the beach is to the right) - I especially recommend their dish of non-spicy green peppers, which are not the same as green bell peppers.
Oh, if staying in Gangzai and addicted to caffeine, I highly recommend bringing your own coffee setup - I brought those one-cup coffeebags and a bag of creamers. You won't get morning coffee anywhere else in town, although down the road an outdoor cafe setup in a field claims to have coffee, but does not appear to open early in the morning.
The next morning I, jetlagged as hell, woke up at 5am because the gods hate me. But, I had the chance to see the sunrise while Brendan and Joseph snoozed so I threw on flip-flops and, without brushing my hair, walked down to the beach in my pajamas. Folks in small towns in Taiwan tend not to care too much about your personal style. Of course the beach was full of the few other tourists staying in Gangzai, and they were silhouetted black against the lightening sky and water as I walked up.
Gangzai has a sandy beach dotted with rocks and other detritus - a pleasure to walk down, but I would not recommend swimming. It is backed by several high sand dunes that a.) coat the entire town, daily, in a fresh film of fine grime and will cause you to feel grimy, too; and b.) can be traversed by renting a Jeep or ATV, a popular activity in town.
You can beachcomb for fun, drive around the dunes, or explore a half-buried pillbox.
I hadn't brought my phone, which is currently my only easily portable camera, so I have no photos. The world has enough photos of sunrises, I figured, I would just enjoy this. I could go into some long "off the grid, enjoying the sunrise"cliche, but really I just couldn't find my phone in the dark and couldn't be bothered.
Loving a good foot dip, I rolled up my PJ bottoms and let the surf wash over my toes a few times. Happy with this, I wasn't paying much attention when a larger wave rolled in, soaking me to the waist. I tried to splorp backwards to get to shallower water, but my flip-flops sunk into the roiling sand, I lifted up a foot and the surf immediately snatched my shoe away.
Okay, I thought. I'm here in PJs, with only the bare minimum of clothing, no technology and now just one shoe, watching the other one quite literally sail off into the sunrise. You win, Mother Nature! The power of the elements serves to illustrate the ephemeral nature of man! Waiter, another cliche please! Give me a TED talk!
Later, we packed up all manner of snacks and sun protection for our hike to the shipwreck. This hike was kind of a one-shot deal for us, first of all because we needed a permit (which we didn't have, but nobody was checking), and secondly because it's widely believed that this particular shipwreck is going to end up washed away by the upcoming typhoon season. The ephemeral nature of man and his works indeed!
We drove our little Vios down to Jiupeng village（九棚村) and following the incredibly scenic road along the coast down there to the very end, where it terminates in a concrete building and two small shrines. There is no food to buy - bring your own. The last general store is back in Jiupeng's "downtown", such as it is. Along this road you will find several inlets to the coast, one with a sandy beach. One lets out on a rocky outcropping you can clamor over, complete with maypole-or-prayer-flag area. From here, look to the right. In the far distance you will see an oblong shape down the coast. Look closer. That's the shipwreck.
It looks so close! Soooo close! You could just walk there, right?
Ha. Ha.
Keep driving, to the end of the line. As far as you can drive.
Go to the end of the line where you'll hit the coast, a few buildings and two shrines.
At the far shrine you can turn onto the rocky coastline. There is no trail, and the "Nanren Road" that the map promises continues this way does not exist. You'll pass a sign saying no trespassing without a permit...but nobody will check. You cannot see the shipwreck from this starting point, it's obscured by another small cape. To see it again, you'll have to round that. To get to the actual wreck, you'll have to pick your way across 4km of rocky tumbles.
We did not make it to the wreck, but we do have some photos of it from the little cape. We all agreed that, given the time it took to reach the cape, that we would never make it over even rougher rocks to the wreck and back. It looks easy, but it is incredibly hard on your legs and feet - I kept struggling to keep my balance in the shifting stones, and I'm still sunburned from the complete lack of shade. If you want to keep going, I suggest buying some cheap working gloves from 7-11, the knitted kind, to make it easier to scramble over larger rocks.
It looks like such an easy thing, just picking your way through these smaller rocks - but it's really not. You're completely exposed, which you can deal with, but the rocks themselves radiate heat and they're small enough that they don't afford good balance. I had to keep my head down to keep from flopping all over the place, and even then I tripped and stumbled often.
It seems like you should be able to get to that first cape in maybe 30 minutes?
Yeah...it took something like 2 hours. It's only, at most, 1.5km away from the road's terminus and probably less than that.
In the end we didn't make it past the cape. From the cape, there is a view of the ship but it was agreed that the rocks beyond were simply too rough to attempt to go any further, considering the effort and time it had taken us to get this far.
Turning back and sitting exhausted for awhile at one of the shrines, we drank tons of water, ate cereal bars and dried mango slices, and inspected some local beachcomber's collection of finds.
You can also start this hike from Manzhou or Jialeshui, starting at Little Yehliu, where the walk may be easier but it's 8km, and you are more likely to be asked for a permit. We never did figure out how one even obtained a permit. I'd say it's impossible, but Taiwanese hiking groups do this hike.
We got lunch back in Gangzai at the restaurant on the main road next to Li Mama's (also good - don't miss the cuttlefish balls and fried oysters) and then continued back to Xuhai, where a much easier hike awaited us. A turn-off in Xuhai will take you up a winding but fairly well-maintained mountain road that spits you out at a high-altitude parking lot. Pay a small fee, park your car (you could hike up the road, but I do not recommend it), and a lovely, easy hike among scenic grasslands awaits. There are restrooms and food stalls here, too. Also, tour groups.
This hike is so easy that a child could do it, and many did. People brought their babies and small dogs and set up entire picnics. It was a nice counterpoint to our death march earlier in the day, with only a few uphill sections. You are rewarded with stunning coastal and mountain views. I recommend sun protection. Take your time and enjoy the view.
The next day we took off from Gangzai and headed south. We stopped briefly in Manzhou for cold drinks and to see the Yu Family Home, a 120-year old courtyard house that is still occupied, sort of (the Yus live in New York, but return fairly regularly and were in town for tomb sweeping). It's a private home but if you pop by and someone's there, they'll most likely let you in to have a look around. Across the street is another home from the same era in a state of considerable disrepair.
Manzhou is also a decent place to stock up at 7-11 and grab a bite to eat. You can probably get directions from folks hanging out at the banyan tree at the center of town (no joke), and if you stayed to poke around you could probably find some more interesting old houses and temples.
We skipped Eluanbi (Brendan and I had been there years ago) because it seemed to be full of holidaymakers and instead focused on Kending sights to the east, including a much quieter and more pleasant beach than the one in Kending town, which is kind of gross and overdone.
We stopped in Jialeshui (佳樂水) where we are fairly sure the restaurant where we ate lunch, which was directly across the street from the parking lot, passed off intestine as "fish belly", despite our skeptically asking if it was indeed what we'd ordered. In addition we learned that drinking 100 cups of coffee in a short time can kill you.
Who knew? We also found that the banyan forest was closed on the weekend (so much for being a good tourist site). But, we went on to Little Yehliu, where you drive past the first parking lot (which is for a beach that looks a bit rough for swimming) and up to a further one. I suppose without a car you could walk it, but I wouldn't want to. Again, that's not a call for you to get a car, it's a call for the destinations down here to have better public transit.
You pay a fairly large fee (290 for three people and one car) and hop on a shuttle bus that stops at all the least interesting rock formations. The shuttle eventually pulls up at the end of the road, which has much more interesting rocks that you can actually get out and climb over. Your shuttle will leave in 10 minutes but you can take any leaving shuttle and stay as long as you like. There's a guy there selling coconuts you can drink from and bottled drinks. This final stop is really what's worth coming for.
After Jialeshui we drove back up Rt. 200 towards Gangzai, but turned at Changle (長樂), a small Paiwan town to get on Rt. 172 (a left-hand turn coming from Kending, a very weirdly angled right coming from Gangzai that you will probably miss, which bears a sign for Gaoshi/高士). Having trouble finding the turn, we stopped in Changle to ask directions. Someone had left a cover half-off a rain gutter near where we'd parked, so as I stepped out of the car, my entire left leg went right in the hole and I fell forward.
Joseph, who was also out of the car, and a local woman giving him directions ran up and helped get me out. I hadn't broken anything but still have a nasty scar several inches long below my knee. The woman probably tells everybody she meets about the foreign lady who fell in a rain gutter in Changle. As we were asking directions to a hike, you could generously term my scar a "hiking accident" - but we all know what really happened.
Route 172 twists further up into the mountains from Changle and eventually meets County Road 199, although that is not clear at all on Google Maps. It is both narrow and surprisingly well-maintained. It is very sparsely trafficked - we passed maybe 3 cars for most of the length of it. Driving along that for several kilometers, on the left you'll come to a clearing with several government signs (on the right if you come from Mudan and the dam).
This is Cacevakan, the trailhead to a short hike up the mountain that leads to the 700-year-old ruins of a Paiwan village.
If you go up here, when you enter the ruins, remember to maintain a respectful silence, do not enter any of the houses (it's OK to walk on the path), do not litter, and although you can picnic at the rest spot just before reaching the ruins, I'm not sure I'd recommend it as I don't know how sacred the space is. The government has done some work to make this site accessible, but it's unclear how much that is supported by the local Paiwan, so it's better to err on the side of more respectful if you go.
As the signs will tell you, the inhabitants of this village buried their dead inside their houses - doing so was supposed to confer protection and bring in good luck - so stepping into any house ruins you see likely means stepping over graves - not something you want to be doing.
A view from the hike up to Cacevakan
The hike is about 500 meters there - 250 to a T in the trails, then head left and it's about another 300 to the ruins. You can head back via the same trail or a slightly shorter but much rougher one that brings you back to the T from the right (you can also go up this way). In many areas on the rougher trail you may have to butt-slide down as it gets steep and gravelly and the wooden steps are all but disintegrated.
If you keep quiet on the trail and come in early morning or late afternoon, you may catch a glimpse of macaques in the trees. There are beehives, so take care and don't wear anything too smelly.
It may seem deserted, but people do come up here, most likely local Paiwan. At the resting spot there were fresh betel nuts laid out to one side, and at the ruins there was a stone slab covered in coins, glass jars and candy.
And again, contemplating these ruins, I would be tempted to pontificate on the ephemeral nature of man and his works as they face off against the unstoppable elemental forces of nature, but again, I'm not a walking TED talk, so I won't.
We stayed briefly and then hiked back down - well, I hobbled, my leg was throbbing - and continued along Rt. 172 to where it meets County Route 199 near Mudan and its reservoir and dam. The views around here are nice, and the entrance to the town is decked with a large aboriginal-design archway.
Heading further up the mountain from Mudan, you may want to stop for some views back down toward the town and dam.
You'll also pass a strange-for-Taiwan town, clearly aboriginal and newly built, full of A-frames on tidy streets. We're not sure what the history is behind this settlement - whether it's for workers who man the dam and reservoir, a rehousing of locals who lost their homes in mudslides or some other housing program, or even what it's called (though Google Maps lists it as "Shimen Village" or 石門村). I'd be curious to know as one does not usually see European-style A-frames in small Taiwanese mountain towns.
As we drove along we passed several trailheads for hiking. With more time and a leg that wasn't banged up by an aggressive rain gutter, I would have liked to have checked some of these out. Unfortunately, we had neither, but someone with time to spare might really enjoy exploring some of these trails. As it got dark we pulled into Dongyuan (東源), also known as 哭泣湖 or Weeping Lake, which we'd passed on our first drive in. Dongyuan/Weeping Lake has Vais Paiwan (the restaurant noted above), a "scenic area", the lake itself with an easy trail through the meadows and forests around it, and Gu Zi (Ku Qi?) Stone House, run by a local pastor and his wife (reservations: 08-8830463 or 0933381844). You can spend the night in the spacious, eccentrically-decorated room below, and have coffee overlooking the lake in the cafe above, which opens between 9 and 10am. We pulled up to the Stone House and waited for someone to show us the way - the house itself is down a short dirt trail from the road.
If you want something to eat, you'll either have to walk, drive or cycle (if you're on a bike) the 1km into town, so if you don't feel like leaving once you've checked in, make sure you're set for food. There are no locks - "nobody here would steal anything" - so while you're probably fine you may want to keep valuables on you. Breakfast is at Lai Lai Noodle House, 1km away in town, and is free. I liked the noodles with a tea egg and mountain vegetables - Joseph wasn't so keen. Lai Lai is run by the pastor's wife's sister and is next to the large church. Many of the aboriginal towns around here boast fairly large churches as much of the community has been converted to Christianity. The room comes with a very large table, a large wooden platform that functions as a "bed" and holds three - better if you're family - a stone-wall bathroom, separate kitchen area with sink but no stove, hot water kettle and some toiletries. It's decorated with wood, stone and aboriginal fabrics. The slate-and-stone edifice is also dotted with old tools, broken jars and other eccentric bric-a-brac.
Our plan for the next morning was to walk around the lake, have coffee upstairs, and then drive up to Dongyuan Scenic Area to see if it's a worthwhile detour. Unfortunately, we woke up to driving rain and, uh, didn't do anything except have breakfast and then coffee. That's also why I have no pictures of Stone House - the light was awful and didn't really capture what the place is like.
So, after returning in the rain from Lai Lai, we packed up and, when the cafe opened (we were the only customers), had locally-grown coffee and ginger flower tea overlooking the lake. More a pond than a lake, really, but the scenery was nice. If you are driving this way it is well worth a stop - and you wouldn't really notice it if you didn't know it was there - but isn't really a destination in its own right.
After coffee we started the slow drive back down to Pingdong, our best-laid plans ruined by the downpour. We would eventually stop in Kaohsiung briefly to have a meal with our dear friend Sasha at Dan Dan Hamburgers (a very local southern Taiwanese hamburger joint that boasts fast food and thread noodles in combo meals).
I would again wax rhapsodic about man's helplessness in the face of nature, but remember the even that got me on that whole line of thinking? My reliance on human technology laid bare at sunrise as I watched my flip-flop bob away in the surf?
Well, what I didn't mention was that after a few minutes some girls further down the beach came up to me, my dripping shoe in their possession. "I saw you lost your shoe before - is it this one?"
YES!
"It washed right back up on the beach down there."
Ha ha.
Man 1; Nature 0.
An ancient tree grows on the grounds of the Qiaotou Sugar Refinery in suburban Kaohsiung while on one side a guy hangs out with his stuff, and on the other a couple takes wedding photos. Rock beats scissors, scissors beats paper, man beats nature.
I haven't been in Taiwan long, but I've been taking advantage of the short time since my arrival. My husband, friend and I almost immediately departed for a four-day trip around southern Taiwan, focusing on the lowermost east coast stretching from Xuhai (旭海) to Kending, while avoiding Kending town because we're just not into that scene.
The purpose? To take a trip around Gangzai (港仔), Xuhai (旭海), Manzhou (滿州), Jialeshui (佳樂水), Kending (墾丁), Mudan (牡丹) and Weeping Lake (哭泣湖) on the eastern end of Pingdong County, hike along the coast to a well-known shipwreck on one of the most isolated stretches of Taiwan's coast, the only part of the coast at least in this part of the country that lacks a coastal road. That means, to see this, you can't just drive a car to a lookout point. You have to hike along the foreshore, and let me tell you, beaches it ain't.
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I'm clearly re-adjusting to Taiwan. Until I bothered to read the Chinese I thought there was a dessert shop down by the beach and thought "yay!"
We also planned a short hike to Cacevakan (I do not know how to pronounce it), the site of the ruins of a 700-year-old Paiwan village, and a short, easy circle of the Xuhai grasslands. In between we drove around the Kending peninsula and stopped at various beaches and coastal areas - some stone, some pebble, some sand, and spent a night on Weeping Lake in the mountains between Pingdong and Taidong.
This is also a special trip for me because it marks the first time I have ever driven a car on the main island of Taiwan. I have driven on Matsu before, and very briefly (like helping to park) on Orchid Island, but Taiwan itself has always terrified me. I'm an inexperienced and nervous driver in the USA, so Taiwan's inattentive scooter drivers, betel nut stand lights that make it hard to suss out actual traffic lights and general sense of all sorts of random crap being thrown at you as you go down the road have turned me into a confirmed non-driver.
Until now. You see, I've just spent the past 4 months in a small town in the Hudson Valley where you drive, or you starve. I carpooled with my sister to work and did most of the driving as I needed the practice. I took the car out on my own - a first for me. I drove more in four months than I had in 34 years, because I had to. I now feel confident enough behind the wheel that it would not be crazy to suggest me as a driver on a trip.
So, we rented a car in Pingdong as I refused to drive in Zuoying where the HSR spat us out. People say it's easy to get on the freeway from the station, but years ago we tried with my friend Emily behind the wheel, couldn't find it, and spent an hour circling Zuoying looking for a way out. NO THANK YOU. Pingdong is a smaller city, I felt that I could handle it especially if the rental office was on the outskirts (which it was), and if we then kept to highways that skirted towns and country roads. And I did! I really did! We returned the car without a scratch on it.
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| Along the road to Gangzai |
I would like to say that I have changed my mind about driving in Taiwan and my insistence that public transit ought to be better, that I have decided to re-think my lack of desire to visit cities with inadequate public transit such as Taichung, that I am more amenable to driving in various parts of the country. But that would be a lie. I still think public transportation is better. I will still seek out buses and trains whenever possible. I still feel that public transit outside of Taipei and perhaps Kaohsiung is insufficient, and requires the attention of the government. I am still not a proponent of driving. I would still prefer not and still recommend that others try to avoid it.
Pingdong is an incredibly scenic county. Unfortunately, it's also one you can only fully enjoy if you drive or cycle. We took Route 1 (the main highway to Kending) to Route 9 (the turnoff for the mountains to Taidong, a right-hand turn to go left because driving sucks). Then we turned on County Route 199 (199縣道), stopped at a well-known Paiwan restaurant at Weeping Lake (哭泣湖 or "ku qi hu", transliterated from Paiwan "tzukudji" - it is not an incredibly tragic lake nor is it lined with weeping willows), and then turned onto Route 199-jia (199甲) to take us down to Gangzai via Xuhai. This route will take you over low mountains and, as you near Xuhai, will spit out gorgeous views of the blue ocean rippling between green bejungled hills before you start to descend.
Before you set off on this trip, I highly recommend making reservations at Vais Paiwan （凡伊斯山野菜館) - the address is 屏東縣牡丹鄉東源村51號 along County Route 199, phone #08-883-0463, open 10-5pm. They're famous for their vegetables - don't go overboard on the meat, just order lots and lots of super-fresh, well-prepared veggies. You can also get Paiwan snacks, mountain pig and more.
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| View from 199甲 |
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| Mountain pig at Vais Paiwan - it was good, but the vegetables were better |
Our next stop after Vais Paiwan was Xuhai's pebble beach, where flat, round pebbles make a downpour-like sound as the waves roll in.
It's also a good place to watch the sunrise, but we were there in the late afternoon. A gorgeous coastal road connects Xuhai to Gangzai (港仔), which, true to its name, has a tiny little port, with lots of pretty places to stop and take photos along the way. In Gangzai, we arrived late enough that all we could really do was get dinner and turn in early. We stayed at Li Mama's （#08-8810066）and found a fantastic dinner spot down by the water (walk back along the main road and turn right at the Earth God temple, continuing left along the short road closer to the coast - the entrance to the beach is to the right) - I especially recommend their dish of non-spicy green peppers, which are not the same as green bell peppers.
Oh, if staying in Gangzai and addicted to caffeine, I highly recommend bringing your own coffee setup - I brought those one-cup coffeebags and a bag of creamers. You won't get morning coffee anywhere else in town, although down the road an outdoor cafe setup in a field claims to have coffee, but does not appear to open early in the morning.
The next morning I, jetlagged as hell, woke up at 5am because the gods hate me. But, I had the chance to see the sunrise while Brendan and Joseph snoozed so I threw on flip-flops and, without brushing my hair, walked down to the beach in my pajamas. Folks in small towns in Taiwan tend not to care too much about your personal style. Of course the beach was full of the few other tourists staying in Gangzai, and they were silhouetted black against the lightening sky and water as I walked up.
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| Would you believe that this is a moonrise? It is - it's not a sunrise photo at all. |
Gangzai has a sandy beach dotted with rocks and other detritus - a pleasure to walk down, but I would not recommend swimming. It is backed by several high sand dunes that a.) coat the entire town, daily, in a fresh film of fine grime and will cause you to feel grimy, too; and b.) can be traversed by renting a Jeep or ATV, a popular activity in town.
You can beachcomb for fun, drive around the dunes, or explore a half-buried pillbox.
I hadn't brought my phone, which is currently my only easily portable camera, so I have no photos. The world has enough photos of sunrises, I figured, I would just enjoy this. I could go into some long "off the grid, enjoying the sunrise"cliche, but really I just couldn't find my phone in the dark and couldn't be bothered.
Loving a good foot dip, I rolled up my PJ bottoms and let the surf wash over my toes a few times. Happy with this, I wasn't paying much attention when a larger wave rolled in, soaking me to the waist. I tried to splorp backwards to get to shallower water, but my flip-flops sunk into the roiling sand, I lifted up a foot and the surf immediately snatched my shoe away.
Okay, I thought. I'm here in PJs, with only the bare minimum of clothing, no technology and now just one shoe, watching the other one quite literally sail off into the sunrise. You win, Mother Nature! The power of the elements serves to illustrate the ephemeral nature of man! Waiter, another cliche please! Give me a TED talk!
Later, we packed up all manner of snacks and sun protection for our hike to the shipwreck. This hike was kind of a one-shot deal for us, first of all because we needed a permit (which we didn't have, but nobody was checking), and secondly because it's widely believed that this particular shipwreck is going to end up washed away by the upcoming typhoon season. The ephemeral nature of man and his works indeed!
We drove our little Vios down to Jiupeng village（九棚村) and following the incredibly scenic road along the coast down there to the very end, where it terminates in a concrete building and two small shrines. There is no food to buy - bring your own. The last general store is back in Jiupeng's "downtown", such as it is. Along this road you will find several inlets to the coast, one with a sandy beach. One lets out on a rocky outcropping you can clamor over, complete with maypole-or-prayer-flag area. From here, look to the right. In the far distance you will see an oblong shape down the coast. Look closer. That's the shipwreck.
It looks so close! Soooo close! You could just walk there, right?
Ha. Ha.
Keep driving, to the end of the line. As far as you can drive.
Go to the end of the line where you'll hit the coast, a few buildings and two shrines.
At the far shrine you can turn onto the rocky coastline. There is no trail, and the "Nanren Road" that the map promises continues this way does not exist. You'll pass a sign saying no trespassing without a permit...but nobody will check. You cannot see the shipwreck from this starting point, it's obscured by another small cape. To see it again, you'll have to round that. To get to the actual wreck, you'll have to pick your way across 4km of rocky tumbles.
We did not make it to the wreck, but we do have some photos of it from the little cape. We all agreed that, given the time it took to reach the cape, that we would never make it over even rougher rocks to the wreck and back. It looks easy, but it is incredibly hard on your legs and feet - I kept struggling to keep my balance in the shifting stones, and I'm still sunburned from the complete lack of shade. If you want to keep going, I suggest buying some cheap working gloves from 7-11, the knitted kind, to make it easier to scramble over larger rocks.
It looks like such an easy thing, just picking your way through these smaller rocks - but it's really not. You're completely exposed, which you can deal with, but the rocks themselves radiate heat and they're small enough that they don't afford good balance. I had to keep my head down to keep from flopping all over the place, and even then I tripped and stumbled often.
It seems like you should be able to get to that first cape in maybe 30 minutes?
Yeah...it took something like 2 hours. It's only, at most, 1.5km away from the road's terminus and probably less than that.
In the end we didn't make it past the cape. From the cape, there is a view of the ship but it was agreed that the rocks beyond were simply too rough to attempt to go any further, considering the effort and time it had taken us to get this far.
Turning back and sitting exhausted for awhile at one of the shrines, we drank tons of water, ate cereal bars and dried mango slices, and inspected some local beachcomber's collection of finds.
You can also start this hike from Manzhou or Jialeshui, starting at Little Yehliu, where the walk may be easier but it's 8km, and you are more likely to be asked for a permit. We never did figure out how one even obtained a permit. I'd say it's impossible, but Taiwanese hiking groups do this hike.
We got lunch back in Gangzai at the restaurant on the main road next to Li Mama's (also good - don't miss the cuttlefish balls and fried oysters) and then continued back to Xuhai, where a much easier hike awaited us. A turn-off in Xuhai will take you up a winding but fairly well-maintained mountain road that spits you out at a high-altitude parking lot. Pay a small fee, park your car (you could hike up the road, but I do not recommend it), and a lovely, easy hike among scenic grasslands awaits. There are restrooms and food stalls here, too. Also, tour groups.
This hike is so easy that a child could do it, and many did. People brought their babies and small dogs and set up entire picnics. It was a nice counterpoint to our death march earlier in the day, with only a few uphill sections. You are rewarded with stunning coastal and mountain views. I recommend sun protection. Take your time and enjoy the view.
The next day we took off from Gangzai and headed south. We stopped briefly in Manzhou for cold drinks and to see the Yu Family Home, a 120-year old courtyard house that is still occupied, sort of (the Yus live in New York, but return fairly regularly and were in town for tomb sweeping). It's a private home but if you pop by and someone's there, they'll most likely let you in to have a look around. Across the street is another home from the same era in a state of considerable disrepair.
Manzhou is also a decent place to stock up at 7-11 and grab a bite to eat. You can probably get directions from folks hanging out at the banyan tree at the center of town (no joke), and if you stayed to poke around you could probably find some more interesting old houses and temples.
We skipped Eluanbi (Brendan and I had been there years ago) because it seemed to be full of holidaymakers and instead focused on Kending sights to the east, including a much quieter and more pleasant beach than the one in Kending town, which is kind of gross and overdone.
We stopped in Jialeshui (佳樂水) where we are fairly sure the restaurant where we ate lunch, which was directly across the street from the parking lot, passed off intestine as "fish belly", despite our skeptically asking if it was indeed what we'd ordered. In addition we learned that drinking 100 cups of coffee in a short time can kill you.
Who knew? We also found that the banyan forest was closed on the weekend (so much for being a good tourist site). But, we went on to Little Yehliu, where you drive past the first parking lot (which is for a beach that looks a bit rough for swimming) and up to a further one. I suppose without a car you could walk it, but I wouldn't want to. Again, that's not a call for you to get a car, it's a call for the destinations down here to have better public transit.
You pay a fairly large fee (290 for three people and one car) and hop on a shuttle bus that stops at all the least interesting rock formations. The shuttle eventually pulls up at the end of the road, which has much more interesting rocks that you can actually get out and climb over. Your shuttle will leave in 10 minutes but you can take any leaving shuttle and stay as long as you like. There's a guy there selling coconuts you can drink from and bottled drinks. This final stop is really what's worth coming for.
After Jialeshui we drove back up Rt. 200 towards Gangzai, but turned at Changle (長樂), a small Paiwan town to get on Rt. 172 (a left-hand turn coming from Kending, a very weirdly angled right coming from Gangzai that you will probably miss, which bears a sign for Gaoshi/高士). Having trouble finding the turn, we stopped in Changle to ask directions. Someone had left a cover half-off a rain gutter near where we'd parked, so as I stepped out of the car, my entire left leg went right in the hole and I fell forward.
Joseph, who was also out of the car, and a local woman giving him directions ran up and helped get me out. I hadn't broken anything but still have a nasty scar several inches long below my knee. The woman probably tells everybody she meets about the foreign lady who fell in a rain gutter in Changle. As we were asking directions to a hike, you could generously term my scar a "hiking accident" - but we all know what really happened.
Route 172 twists further up into the mountains from Changle and eventually meets County Road 199, although that is not clear at all on Google Maps. It is both narrow and surprisingly well-maintained. It is very sparsely trafficked - we passed maybe 3 cars for most of the length of it. Driving along that for several kilometers, on the left you'll come to a clearing with several government signs (on the right if you come from Mudan and the dam).
This is Cacevakan, the trailhead to a short hike up the mountain that leads to the 700-year-old ruins of a Paiwan village.
If you go up here, when you enter the ruins, remember to maintain a respectful silence, do not enter any of the houses (it's OK to walk on the path), do not litter, and although you can picnic at the rest spot just before reaching the ruins, I'm not sure I'd recommend it as I don't know how sacred the space is. The government has done some work to make this site accessible, but it's unclear how much that is supported by the local Paiwan, so it's better to err on the side of more respectful if you go.
As the signs will tell you, the inhabitants of this village buried their dead inside their houses - doing so was supposed to confer protection and bring in good luck - so stepping into any house ruins you see likely means stepping over graves - not something you want to be doing.
A view from the hike up to Cacevakan
The hike is about 500 meters there - 250 to a T in the trails, then head left and it's about another 300 to the ruins. You can head back via the same trail or a slightly shorter but much rougher one that brings you back to the T from the right (you can also go up this way). In many areas on the rougher trail you may have to butt-slide down as it gets steep and gravelly and the wooden steps are all but disintegrated.
If you keep quiet on the trail and come in early morning or late afternoon, you may catch a glimpse of macaques in the trees. There are beehives, so take care and don't wear anything too smelly.
It may seem deserted, but people do come up here, most likely local Paiwan. At the resting spot there were fresh betel nuts laid out to one side, and at the ruins there was a stone slab covered in coins, glass jars and candy.
And again, contemplating these ruins, I would be tempted to pontificate on the ephemeral nature of man and his works as they face off against the unstoppable elemental forces of nature, but again, I'm not a walking TED talk, so I won't.
We stayed briefly and then hiked back down - well, I hobbled, my leg was throbbing - and continued along Rt. 172 to where it meets County Route 199 near Mudan and its reservoir and dam. The views around here are nice, and the entrance to the town is decked with a large aboriginal-design archway.
Heading further up the mountain from Mudan, you may want to stop for some views back down toward the town and dam.
You'll also pass a strange-for-Taiwan town, clearly aboriginal and newly built, full of A-frames on tidy streets. We're not sure what the history is behind this settlement - whether it's for workers who man the dam and reservoir, a rehousing of locals who lost their homes in mudslides or some other housing program, or even what it's called (though Google Maps lists it as "Shimen Village" or 石門村). I'd be curious to know as one does not usually see European-style A-frames in small Taiwanese mountain towns.
As we drove along we passed several trailheads for hiking. With more time and a leg that wasn't banged up by an aggressive rain gutter, I would have liked to have checked some of these out. Unfortunately, we had neither, but someone with time to spare might really enjoy exploring some of these trails. As it got dark we pulled into Dongyuan (東源), also known as 哭泣湖 or Weeping Lake, which we'd passed on our first drive in. Dongyuan/Weeping Lake has Vais Paiwan (the restaurant noted above), a "scenic area", the lake itself with an easy trail through the meadows and forests around it, and Gu Zi (Ku Qi?) Stone House, run by a local pastor and his wife (reservations: 08-8830463 or 0933381844). You can spend the night in the spacious, eccentrically-decorated room below, and have coffee overlooking the lake in the cafe above, which opens between 9 and 10am. We pulled up to the Stone House and waited for someone to show us the way - the house itself is down a short dirt trail from the road.
If you want something to eat, you'll either have to walk, drive or cycle (if you're on a bike) the 1km into town, so if you don't feel like leaving once you've checked in, make sure you're set for food. There are no locks - "nobody here would steal anything" - so while you're probably fine you may want to keep valuables on you. Breakfast is at Lai Lai Noodle House, 1km away in town, and is free. I liked the noodles with a tea egg and mountain vegetables - Joseph wasn't so keen. Lai Lai is run by the pastor's wife's sister and is next to the large church. Many of the aboriginal towns around here boast fairly large churches as much of the community has been converted to Christianity. The room comes with a very large table, a large wooden platform that functions as a "bed" and holds three - better if you're family - a stone-wall bathroom, separate kitchen area with sink but no stove, hot water kettle and some toiletries. It's decorated with wood, stone and aboriginal fabrics. The slate-and-stone edifice is also dotted with old tools, broken jars and other eccentric bric-a-brac.
Our plan for the next morning was to walk around the lake, have coffee upstairs, and then drive up to Dongyuan Scenic Area to see if it's a worthwhile detour. Unfortunately, we woke up to driving rain and, uh, didn't do anything except have breakfast and then coffee. That's also why I have no pictures of Stone House - the light was awful and didn't really capture what the place is like.
So, after returning in the rain from Lai Lai, we packed up and, when the cafe opened (we were the only customers), had locally-grown coffee and ginger flower tea overlooking the lake. More a pond than a lake, really, but the scenery was nice. If you are driving this way it is well worth a stop - and you wouldn't really notice it if you didn't know it was there - but isn't really a destination in its own right.
After coffee we started the slow drive back down to Pingdong, our best-laid plans ruined by the downpour. We would eventually stop in Kaohsiung briefly to have a meal with our dear friend Sasha at Dan Dan Hamburgers (a very local southern Taiwanese hamburger joint that boasts fast food and thread noodles in combo meals).
I would again wax rhapsodic about man's helplessness in the face of nature, but remember the even that got me on that whole line of thinking? My reliance on human technology laid bare at sunrise as I watched my flip-flop bob away in the surf?
Well, what I didn't mention was that after a few minutes some girls further down the beach came up to me, my dripping shoe in their possession. "I saw you lost your shoe before - is it this one?"
YES!
"It washed right back up on the beach down there."
Ha ha.
Man 1; Nature 0.
An ancient tree grows on the grounds of the Qiaotou Sugar Refinery in suburban Kaohsiung while on one side a guy hangs out with his stuff, and on the other a couple takes wedding photos. Rock beats scissors, scissors beats paper, man beats nature.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
乩童: Spirit Mediums in Donggang
Yes, that guy does have flags pinned into his skin.
Then, you sit under the hot sun for awhile, until "whenever the gods decide to start" - at first it seems like nothing is happening and everyone's just hanging out on the beach with their idols for no reason. A few people start to show signs of going into a 乩童 trance (the verb in Taiwanese is ki dang, the noun is dang ki). It's interesting but not that lively - and then more people go into trances, then more, and it seems like all at once the entire waterline is full of these guys, doing whatever it is the god tells them to do.
Some self-flagellate, pierce or otherwise mutilate. Others do what look like kung fu or tai chi moves. Some run around screaming and laughing. Some eat burning incense, or rub incense on their skin. Some shout and dance. Some hiss or buzz their lips, others actually speak. Their accoutrements are different - spiked balls, spiked swords, spiked clubs, needles, flags, incense and more (one guy was possessed by Ji Dong, wore a yellow robe and drank from a yellow medicine gourd, and spewed the liquid into the air).
Any way you slice it, or hit it, or spike it, or burn it or pierce it, they're there to call in their various gods from the sea, chiefly among them 千歲爺. With no good English translation I'm just going to go ahead and call him Qian Sui Ye, or Thousand Years Grandfather.
I don't really believe in this stuff (as you know, I'm an atheist) - my view is that it is completely and thorougly fascinating, however, for several reasons.
First, I do believe that these people are entranced. What I don't believe is that they're possessed by gods. I suppose it's possible, and I could be wrong, but I doubt it (I also doubt that there's one big old dude in the sky who tells us what to do - I doubt everything). I do believe that they are somehow able to bring on this trance, and the heat, beating drums, gongs, incense, waves and general overstimulation of the environment brings it on faster.
I also believe that there's an element of mass entrancement - such things have been documented - stemming from the similar states of mind of these spirit mediums. That makes sense to me.
What fascinates me is this: I have never been hypnotized. Our college campus, like many, hires (or used to hire) a hypnotist to come out and entertain students for a night in the main university auditorium. Every year I'd go, and every year I'd volunteer to go onstage, and I was never picked (it was a big auditorium). I watched the people who were picked and was never able to really comprehend what it must feel like. I've never done hard drugs not because I feel they're immoral (committing crimes to get money for drugs is immoral, and wasting your life on drugs without helping society is amoral, but the action of ingesting drugs in and of itself is not "wrong" in my view - it's your own body, you're free to do that), but because I'm frankly a bit scared of what an altered state might feel like. Also, considering how easily I get hooked on caffeine, I'm terrified of addiction.
So I am just really interested in what these guys must be "thinking" or feeling in that state. Do their facial expressions give it away? What do they feel when they hurt themselves?
They say that spirit mediums don't feel any pain when doing this, and that because they were possessed by gods or spirits when doing so, they heal quickly and without infection. I'm not so sure, seeing as the handlers (all spirit mediums have handlers who are able to touch them, and who will push you away of you get too close) carried spray disinfectant and would routinely spray down fresh wounds after infliction or after the spirit medium went into the water.
Second, I'm fascinated by, well, who these people are.
I mean, that guy? He's probably somebody's Grandpa. Do his grandkids know that he does this once in awhile? Does that scare them? My guess is that the answers are "yes" and "it depends" - an urban kid in relatively religiously tame Taipei would probably be all "whaaattt", but a kid born and raised in Donggang would likely think it completely normal and maybe think he might do something similar someday - it'd be no different than Grandpa being a deacon at church or a cantor in a shul.
More jokingly, I wonder if these photos make it into family photo albums (probably not, ha). "Come here, Little Chen, have a look at these photos of Grandpa Chen - he's possessed by spirits. Be a good boy or Grandpa will come and get you.")
(JOKING! Joking).
Third, I wonder if, in their entranced state, they can see those around them. This dude is looking right at me, and frankly, it's a little scary. I wonder what he sees when he looks right at me - does he see "some white girl" or does he see what a god would presumably see (what would a god see?), does he not see me at all, or what? Spirit mediums don't react to those around them, generally (they may react to handlers or to idols, but generally not people standing around. If you are in their way, they will continue hitting themselves and if you get scraped or whacked, that won't stop them).
Fourth, I have to say I am happy to see women being given an equal role in this event: basically, the gods choose who will be their receptacles/liaisons, and if they choose a woman, it's not for men to say that she can't do it. Women jitong/dangki are more common in southern Taiwan - I'm not surprised, but again this supports my case that the south is not "more sexist" as many Taipei folks will try to tell you. It's sexist in different ways, but it's not "more sexist". Just ask any obasan who runs her family's company, or a female spirit medium.
How do the gods do it? Either through indicating to that person through causing them to become entranced or through being chosen and undergoing training. You can read in the link above (here it is again) that if the gods choose you, you become entranced at temple affairs - not surprising, again, with all the drumming and gongs and incense and dancing, seems like a good environment in which to go into a trance. I've also heard that the gods might send you crazy dreams or cause you to say odd things while sleepwalking. I had a student who told me his friend's wife had this happen and she "had to" become a spirit medium. You don't really get a choice.
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| A blow for equality! |
I will say, though, that on Sunday, the whole thing felt quite weird. The woman below, along with a man and two other women, ran further into the water while hissing, screaming and laughing. I was in there with them but for some reason not taking photos - it all happened very quickly, don't ask me why - they started shouting as though they were counting down, or about to orgasm in a hilariously parodic way, or something - "ahhh, ahh, AAAHH!" as a large wave rolled in, hit me in the back and them in the chests, and then they whirled around and ran back up to the idol, which was then brought to the sea - a sign that that god was there, or a communication of his (or her) will.
As that happened, in the seconds before and just as the wave hit my back, I couldn't see anything, just white, as well as the three women in the water. Nothing else. Then it was like something big rushed past with the wave. I am pretty sure I laughed or screamed - my friend said all he heard me say was "HOLY SHIT!" and didn't see anything else out of the ordinary. Then suddenly I was fine again and fanning myself, trying to get my head back together.
No, I do not believe I was temporarily possessed by any god.
I do believe it is quite likely that I, too, was overstimulated. The drumming, the gongs, the incense, the people completely flipping out in a trance right next to me, the waves, the heat, the sun, the dust, the firecrackers - it is possible, likely even, that I was almost overtaken by it and for the first time ever, for a few seconds, was entranced, the way a hypnotist might entrance a person or the way people in crowds full of fervor (religious or not) will lose themselves. Then my mind - which doesn't accept the existence of spirits or gods and which is terrified of being entranced - fought back and restored me to a normal state.
That's a normal, human psychology based way of looking at it, and it makes the most sense. After thinking about it - and I've thought about it a lot over the past two days - that's what I believe happened.
I wish I could say more, but it was literally maybe two or three seconds, and I remember the feeling that my brain was all over the place immediately after far better than what happened in those three seconds themselves.
Finally, I'm fascinated by spirit mediums because it presents a more hardcore, somewhat scary, even a little terrifying, aspect of folk Daoism. I'm not religious but I am interested in religion, and in my view, the most interesting religions, as well as the ones that are the most organic and culturally ingrained, are the ones that are a bit scary. It reminds the believers that gods are scary and fickle beings (assuming one believes they exist), that bad things happen, that life isn't all love, forgiveness, absolution and pearly gates.
As I've said, I appreciate folk Daoism because it is just as cultural as it is religious. People don't really care if you believe (although some southerners will accuse northern Taiwanese of "not really believing" - at least one person said that last weekend), you can still participate on a cultural level. Even if it's not your culture, you're still welcome. A part of that is the frightening side of things.
So while santaizi (the three child prince gods who dance to techno music) are great, and the idols are cool, and we all love dragon and lion dances, and everyone loves beautiful Guanyin, I tend to be drawn to the more hardcore, darker elements (I don't think that'd be true if I actually believed, though) - the ones that hearken back to the idea of shamans, magic, ghosts, demons, sacrifices and blood. Things that tend to be ignored or avoided in our everyday life.
It's a dose of something a bit dark in an otherwise pretty light life - a comfortable apartment in Taipei, a job that is basically an office job without being an actual office job, a cute cat, a wonderful husband. Looking at the lives of others - the clean MRT, the air conditioning, the sanitized office life, the cafes and department stores - sometimes you get a taste for something a little gritty. A touch of bitter after all that white chocolate.
You don't see many of these guys in Taipei (although you see some) - I love Taipei, but sometimes it feels so developed, so genteel, that they've lost their connection to so much of the gritty reality of life, and of folk belief. I'm planning to stay in Taipei, but this is why I head south as frequently as I can manage.
Plus, I grew up going to church. Didn't leave a lasting impression on me. My parents used to say that the point of church was to affirm your faith and to stick to something, not to necessarily have a revelatory experience or to commune with the divine every Sunday. That you may not feel it in your heart or head, but if you do it long enough you'll feel it in your bones.
I disagree - although I can understand feeling it "in your bones" from a cultural standpoint, if this is what your culture does - I never felt like it meant anything. Prayers that seemed to float off to nothing, songs that didn't move me, sermons that were occasionally interesting from a moral perspective but never a spiritual one, trying to reconcile faith with faith-based sexism (not a problem with my parents' church but a problem in a more general sense with organized religion) - it all felt quite saccharine, a little fluffy. What happened on the beach at Donggang was not saccharine and not fluffy, it was hardcore. It was like taking out all the pretty music and prayer and leaving only the especially gory crucifix, which is really the most grounding aspect of Christianity in my view, despite being a nonbeliever.
But this - this - left an impression. There was feeling in this, even if I don't share the particular belief that the feeling stems from. Like the scarier Hindu gods (Kali, Shiva, Agni, Indra) and demons, like the shamans that still exist in The Philippines and Korea (Korea!), the harvest festivals of the Taiwanese aborigines, the fire-dancing spirit mediums of southern India, the long, hard pilgrimages people take - that's hardcore, that's got feeling, that's something that piques my interest.
It may look showy, but it's not a show. Whether or not you believe these guys are possessed by gods, their entrancement is real. Their wounds are real and their belief is real. They are not Frozen Chosen - they're fierce.
And even Atheist Me can admire that.
So how do they know when Qian Sui Ye comes in?
Well, I don't know (I tried to ask, but nobody could really tell me). They just...know. Clearly someone is in charge of watching for the signs - I think when a specific spirit medium feels that he's come in, he/she does something or says something that lets others know.
Then, drums are sounded, gongs are gonged, balloons are released, people cheer, and there's a feeling of joy that washes over the beach. The other spirit mediums wrap up - it all ends pretty quickly, too - and the procession from the beach begins. I can't tell you where it goes - pretty much every road between the beach, Zhongshan Rd. and Donglong Temple is packed with people.
More later on what you can see after 千歲爺 arrives - for now, enjoy some photos:
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