Xiaotzukeng Old Trail

As anyone who's studied Taipei County on a map knows, the Pingxi coal mining area (now a popular tourist spot with a small-gauge railroad) and the gorgeous Pacific views of Jiufen may seem worlds apart, but are actually surprisingly close. This is not a huge revelation, as they're both quickly and easily accessible from Ruifang, a small town in northern Taipei County. The only thing separating them is a mountain ridge. Specifically, this mountain ridge:

...which is accessible from the first stop on the Pingxi Rail Line - Houdong. Houdong also has a quaintly dilapidated atmosphere, friendly locals and a very small (VERY SMALL) town square with local eats. This is more or less the town square:

Feeling undercaffeinated, we headed towards a sign saying "Houdong Coffee" which was conveniently in the same direction as our destination, Xiaotzukeng Old Trail. We got there to find the place empty, but some guy came out of his house next door saying "you want coffee?" and proceeded to run up the road to a woman tending sweet potatoes to tell her that she had customers. While we waited some other locals sauntered by, and asked the wife of the guy who ran off what we were doing there. "Oh they want some coffee," she said, looking up from her own sweet potatoes. "Coffee? Is Old Chen's coffee machine fixed?" "Seems so."

The owner came back, took off her gloves, and led us inside. "Actually, I think the coffee machine is still broken," she said. "Cocoa?" It was caffeinated, so sure. It tasted pretty good iced. We sat in the "coffee shop" (a living room with an extra table and a broken coffee machine in the corner) and chatted with the family. Old Chen's son came in and chatted with us in English, giving us free hand-roasted coffee to apologize for not having a working machine. "We just have this machine so whenever some people come by who want coffee, we make them some. It's not a real coffeeshop," he said. (We figured).

"Where are you going," Chen Taitai asked us.

"Xiaotzukeng Old Trail to Jiufen."

"Jiufen? That's way too far! You can't do that!"

"Really, how far is it? We thought it was just 2-3 hours."

"Exactly! It's about 3 hours to Jiufen. That's too far!"

Some other guy wandered in. "You got coffee?" he asked Chen Taitai.

"Nope, machine's broken."

"Oh. Where are those foreigners going?"

"They're nuts. They're going to Jiufen. Walking."

"What? That's too far! That's like 2 hours! You can't do that!"

But, indeed, we did do that. Xiaotzukeng Trail starts at the far edge of town to the left of the train station, just past the elementary school, and is fairly well-marked as trails go. I wrote about it here when it appeared as a feature in the China Post. It's a reasonably well-maintained (well...) old trail that leads from Houdong to the abandoned (and really cool) mountain village of Xiaozukeng before climbing over a ridge and down to Jiufen.

Ignore what the article says about a gentle climb - it's fairly gentle and on a surfaced road for the first 20 minutes or so, but quickly turns into a stair-climbing extravaganza and then pitches quickly up the mountain - fortunately there are a few good break spots along the way.

Even on a sunny Sunday, we only ran into a few small pairs and groups of hikers, and one solo climber in a massive mosquito hat.

The animal life on the way up is fantastic, at least for all things bug:

...yes, that spider is every bit as ginormous as you think it is. Roughly my handspan. I feel bad for the little red guy.

We also saw black and white speckled lizards with bright blue tails (stunning), a horde of grasshoppers and lots of butterflies, which I couldn't seem to photograph fast enough to get a good shot. The Pingxi area is known for butterflies so this was not a surprise.

Partway up the trail you run into a beautifully ruined old village, which feels like something out of Middle Earth (Brendan's words):

...before climbing to a shrine (there are a few on the way with a gorgeous view of the way we came:

I usually don't take photos of idols, but I am consistently reassured by Taiwanese that it's actually OK - because I'm not so sure that's true. But this time I felt I may as well give it a shot.

After the abandoned village and the shrine, the trail stops being stairs and turns into a slippery, rock-strewn uphill heave-ho with lots of things in the way. As we climbed, some music all the way from Houdong town - someone playing a large bamboo flute - ricocheted off the walls of the mountain crag we were heading through and floated up to us until we crossed over to the other side of the ridge. If that had happened in China, it would have probably been due to the government placing speakers several yards from the trail and playing 'traditional music', but in Taiwan things like that are authentic - it made the whole experience that much more charming.

My friend and I were a bit behind Brendan as we clamored over the rocks and stumps. When I saw him go over a hill where the trail seemed to end, I knew that Jiufen was supposed to be on the other side but I was surprised by Brendan's whoop of excitement. Coming into view instantly, with no hint about what was ahead, just as you take your last step over the lip of the wooded ridge, was this:

(Yes, that's the Pacific behind Keelung Mountain there).

"We won this mountain!" he said as I made my way over, shouting down to our friend not to take a break, just rest when she got there. I hummed the song that plays when Super Mario rescues the princess and the characters all start dancing.

The way it just appeared like that, with a full-in-the-face ocean breeze, was mind-blowing - 110% worth the scramble up from Houdong.

...a few things we saw on the way down to Jiufen - 1250 meters of downward pain on very uncomfortable stairs:

Then we took a well-deserved crash at a teashop in Jiufen, drinking cold things and eating sugary things, before buying a bunch of random stuff we wanted (brown sugar cake, aboriginal millet wine, you know...stuff).

Tandoor Indian Restaurant

Tandoor Indian Restaurant, #10 Lane 73 Hejiang Street, Taipei

(Just off Minsheng Road behind the office building with a SAAB dealer, walkable from Zhongshan Jr. High School MRT) and #9 Lane 13 Tianmu West Road

台北市合江街73巷10號 / 台北市天母西路13巷9號

Maybe not as intellectually weighty as talking about the Dalai Lama's visit (by the way, President Ma, you suck - it's disgusting that you think it's more important to please a hegemonic, totalitarian, immoral and heartless regime that claims sovereignty over the country you purport to rule than it is to welcome a pacifist spiritual leader revered by millions. Disgusting, sick and sad and I am ashamed to call you the President of any nation)...

...but we tried Tandoor Indian cuisine for the first time tonight.

How's that for an abrupt digression?

Anyway, it was good, but definitely had its strengths and weaknesses.

Things I didn't like:

Portion size: for the price, the portions were rather small - I guess you could say quality over quantity, but then for less money you get more curry that's just as good elsewhere.

Prices in general: NT$60 for pickle or chutney? That's $2.00 US and a bit steep for what is basically a little dish with a spoonful of pickle, from a jar that probably cost $150 NT ($4.50) max. I almost always order a pickle with my meal and didn't this time because I'm not prepared to pay NT$60 for it.

The tea and samosas: the tea was weak and not spiced enough despite asking for extra spices. The samosas were perfectly acceptable but rather small and not fantastic...nothing like the amazing mutton samosas we get at...is it Ali Baba or Calcutta Indian Food? I forget. One of those two, however, has ridiculously good samosas that blow Tandoor's out of the water. And Exotic Masala House has the best masala chai.

But I would eat there again, with those things in mind. The restaurant had many strengths to recommend it as well:

Service: quick, friendly and efficient and the waiter helped me note down the Chinese names of some spices (nutmeg, clove, turmeric, methi) that I couldn't find in the dictionary.

General quality of food: the curry was good, I give it that. The masala kofta was spicy as heck, which I appreciate.

Homemade desserts: everyone else, if they even offer gulab jamun, gets it from a can. Tandoor's are homemade. I'd put more spice and rosewater in the sauce, but I appreciate that it's not overly sweet.

Alcohol: fine selection, including Kingfisher, a crap beer (really, it's bad) that goes uncannily well with curry but nothing else.

Menu selection: a wide selection of breads including naan, roti and three kulchas (paneer, onion and lamb) as well as puri, though we ordered the puri and it came out flat (puri is a puffed bread that should, at its best, be oily, flaky and spherical and deflate when you tear it open)...also a very wide regional selection of dishes such as Goan fish, a Marathi curry and some other rarities that are hard to find in Indian restaurants around here.

Ghost Month

Last night was the 15th day of the 7th lunar month (Ghost Month), and Keelung held it's celebrations as usual, despite the rain-on-rain-off typhoontastic weather. The 14th day is for the parade and candle lighting, and the 15th - the one I attended - is the massive food offering, prayer and throwing of food at people. All around your city you may have noticed huge offering tables outside businesses and larger than usual fires outside houses (enough that the smoke changed the quality of the air in Taipei, which is amazing considering how bad it can already be at times). Keelung takes that to an extreme.

I apologize that the following photos are in no particular order, but it should be clear how things went down anyway.

Some photographers checking out the crowd.

Every year, a different clan sponsors the decoration and food-buyin' and leads the prayers. This year, as the sign says, it was the Zhang clan. Since my name is Zhang - not really but it's my Chinese surname - they asked me to be in one of the formal portraits of the clan. I kind of hope that one will make it into the temple where the keep the clan photos for each year.

For the offerings, long tables were set up full of food, some of which is shown below.

This year there were more foreigners than usual. Last year we were the only ones. This year nobody could come with me so I went alone, and saw a lot of Westerners. Despite our increased presence, the local kids were fascinated as usual.

Toward the end of the evening, some Zhangs got up on the dais in front of the temple and, while singing incantations, flung food (fruit, bread, candy etc.) at the crowd. I got a few videos of the throwing but no photos - didn't want to get beaned on the head with a snow pear while trying to take a picture.

Incantations...

Still more incantations...

Just before that, the Zhang family and basically anyone else who wanted to participate walked around the offerings with incense, praying for it to multiply. Then some Zhangs donned traditional clothing and led more prayers.

People walking around.

The walkway up to the temple was also decorated...in the classiest possible way. I love the subtle play of light and color, so minimalist you'd hardly notice it. (snicker) Apparently ghosts like serious bling.

One of the displays around the temple was of figurines. When the offshore typhoon caused sudden downpours, they were protected.

This boat is made entirely out of rice flour goo and painted - it's a food offering. The characters say, basically, "Celebration - Zhang Clan - Ghost Month"

Around the temple, banners are hung. The writing on these, visible in another photo below, is not Chinese. They're special "spirit characters" meant to invoke various things.

As you can see, this set of photos uploaded backwards - the sky is getting lighter. That's not the ghosts coming.

The temple where this takes place is on a hill and while it's brightly colored all year, only at this time of year is it blinged the heck out.

This balloon pig looks mighty happy considering what's happening to his people below:

Ouch.

I wonder what she sees under there...

Like some sort of medieval punishment.

How funky is your chicken?

Decorating teapots made of rice - all of this food is made of rice goo and painted. Not edible to humans but perfectly ingestible to ghosts. At the end of the night you can keep whatever you can get your hands on, but since you can't eat it (and we have a cat who would try) I only took some orchids.

Rice fish.

Rice spiders.

Rice beetles.

Rice guy with dragon between two cones of bread.

This is how the temple normally looks - minus a few million lights.

Around the temple, to please the ghosts, the sponsoring clan erects shiny depictions of various gods. I think this is Guangong.

...and tinfoil elephants...

Here are the spirit-character banners I mentioned above.

Su Ho Paper Museum + handmade paper shop

I stopped into the Su Ho Paper Museum today, just east of the Songjiang/Chang'An intersection (buses 642, 643, 280, 222 and several others go there), and the paper shop a little farther east of that - the Chang Chuen Ever Prosperous Group, which sounds so stereotypically Chinese that it makes me smile. The purpose was to buy paper for making homemade cards that I love to create for friends and family, and to get ideas for our funky, low-cost DIY wedding invitations. I love working with paper so whatever we choose not to use for the invitations will eventually be used in cards or other works of art.

Some of what I bought, with strips of the larger sheets for ease of experimenting:

The blue and purple Nepalese block print came from a larger sheet purchased at the museum (NT120 or 180, I forget) and the rest came from Ever Prosperous. Opinions on which ones would make the best decorative paper for invitations - think "funky and fun", NOT "Wedding" - are welcome! We have no color schemes because we agree that a 'color scheme' is ridiculous for what is basically a big party, but you can see that I prefer dark, rich colors. Brendan has no opinion but generally likes my taste.

The Su Ho museum, well-decorated but in an ugly storefront, is worth a visit if you also plan to make paper, but if you're just coming to poke around, the NT100 admission is a bit steep (NT180 for admission and papermaking). They do have a shop stocking gorgeous, high-quality papers that are also artistic, but the Ever Prosperous store a few doors down has a much larger selection. If you are in the market for handmade paper in general it's worth checking out both so you can see all of what's available.

Some photos from the Su Ho museum, which I took before I realized that photography is prohibited (oops, but at least I didn't use flash):

Paper...things...displayed artistically.

From an exhibit of black ink drawings of creepy stuff on handmade thick paper. It has a very Edward Gory-esque name, which fits the photos as you can see. It's running through September 21.

This sculpture of a woman is made entirely out of paper - her face, headdress and clothes. Cool!

The Butterfly Effect

The following is a somewhat sappy tale, but it's entirely true and, I figured, worth mentioning.

About a month ago, my student's grandfather died. He was 92 and had lived a good life, so while his family grieved, they were also heartened that he lived to such an old age and was in good health for most of it.

He lived in a more traditional time when men ran the household and brought in money, women married young and kept house while popping out babies and children were firmly controlled by their parents up to and often after their own marriages. Daughters were not always wanted, and were often given away to infertile families as open, semi-official adoptions. Some were sent to live with other families with the understanding that they would be raised as daughters (or maids, depending) until they could marry the son of the house. That's exactly what the old grandfather did with his three daughters; he sent them away to live with other families so as to concentrate on raising his sons. The daughters knew where they came from, though, and often came home to visit.

They visited again when the old grandfather died - one a professional swimmer married to another athlete, the other successful in the banking industry and the third a homemaker in name, but everyone knew she was the brains behind the family business. The old grandfather's own family business happens to be fishing; my student was sent to study and work in business while his brother, it was decided, would continue in their traditional industry. They were not typical fishermen, however - they were in the toro tuna business. Toro is one of the highest quality tuna fish in the world; it's used for sushi and sashimi and is widely considered a luxury good. What I mean is, while laying in his casket, the grandfather may have looked weathered and saltwatered from years of fishing, but that casket and the flowers and other funereal gifts surrounding it were quite lavish.

In China and Taiwan, people often believe in something called tou qi - or the seventh day. On the seventh day, it's said, the soul of the departed returns to earth. That soul, apparently, is embodied in a butterfly - hence the famous opera "Liang Zhu" or The Butterfly Lovers.

On the seventh day, just before the funeral, the entire family including the three adopted daughters was in the family's ancestral home in Yilan in an area that does not have many butterflies, even though Taiwan is well-known for being packed with butterflies in general. According to my student, a butterfly flew in through the window and alighted on the grandfather's body - setting aside my own queasiness from the idea of keeping a departed loved one in the house for seven days - that was apparently something big. The butterfly then took off, touching the heads of everyone in the room and the grandmother, now a widow, twice before leaving again.

Astounded, the family had the eldest son throw fortune blocks to ask - Was that you as a butterfly? Yes. Did you come back to say goodbye? Yes. Are you happy now? Is everything OK? Yes. Yes. The family's sadness lifted, if just a little bit.

My own student told me he hoped he'd get to be that old, and vowed to spend more time with his aunts.

Just the other day, at another company, when I asked my student how his weekend was, he looked grief-stricken. Apparently a well-known sales rep at that company, his close colleague, had succumbed to pancreatic cancer and her funeral was held over the weekend. There were both Buddhist and Catholic ceremonies, as she was Buddhist but her husband is Catholic. During the rites, her two daughters began crying "Mama! Mama!", not realizing she was gone. That made everyone begin crying; the woman had been in her mid-30s and had only just begun to build the life that the old grandfather had. Many of the attendees were her colleagues, so the death threw a shroud over daily office life.

I saw the same coworker a few days later after another weekend had gone by; he's the sort who works hard and gets ahead, often skipping activities with his family, even on the weekend when he's off attending conferences and symposia.

"When I was home yesterday," he said on that Monday morning, "a butterfly flew in my house."

"Oh really?"

"I thought about it and remembered those two sad girls cried at N-----'s....her...."

"Funeral."

"Yes, funeral. I thought even though the Buddhist person who called her ghost said she was OK, I think maybe she misses her daughters. So I said to myself I shouldn't do that. I shouldn't work so hard and spend less time with my wife and kids. When I am die, if I am die early, I want my family to remember spend a lot of time with me. Now I will work hard, but not work SO hard, and try to have more weekend days with family. Tonight I want to finish my work by 7 so I can go home and eat dinner with them."

I know. Sounds completely fabricated, like something out of a contrived short story. It's not - these are two stories told to me by two different students.