Taiwan

Tweet

When I told a friend I was headed to Taiwan for three days, she told me it's  on her top 5 travel list - of places never to visit. The first four were North Korea, Iraq, Syria and Libya. 

Officially called the Republic of China,  Taiwan is recognized as an independent country, much to the "real" China's chagrin, by 20+ UN member states. Tiny compared to the Mainland but Taiwan is still as big as perhaps England, and I spent 3 days exploring the capital Taipei City and it's surroundings.

A 5 hour red eye flight from Singapore got me to Taipei's Taoyuan international airport and thanks to a US visa stamp on the passport , I was exempt from visa requirements. I took the express bus to the Taiwan Main Station, from where my hotel was a short walk. 

My first thoughts on the place were that it seemed like a cross between Hong Kong and Singapore: the liveliness of the former and the cleanliness of the latter. My first destination of the day was the hot springs town of Xinbeitou. I took the metro to Beitou station, and from there a fancy shuttle train running between Beitou and Xinbeitou (xin meaning new) . The train had colorful and stylish chairs and interactive displays of the tourist attractions on offer. 

It didn't take much time for me to be impressed by this country. Discipline with respect to getting in queue was fantastic. No one on the train took the reserved seats, even when there were no kids, pregnant women, elderly or disabled around. All stations had coin changing machines, lockers of all sizes and maternity rooms. All public areas were spanking clean, and there were separate trash cans for recyclable and non-recyclable items. A strong network of public buses, vans and trains meant fewer cars and less traffic: I didn't have to use a taxi to get anywhere.

The thermal activity area at Xinbeitou was only a short walk away from the station. I took a quick peek into the cultural center featuring a display of the life of the aborigines living between the coast and the mountains in the central plains. 

The next stop was the Museum of Hot Springs where rehearsal of a traditional music performance was going on. A section of the museum discussed the films shot in the area. One of the displays, with a dash of self deprecating humor rarely seen in cultural museums, talked how films made in the 60s and 70s all had the same plot about the heroine wooing the hero, blah blah blah (quite similar to Indian movies, except that the roles are reversed). The main theme of the museum was, as the name suggests, discussion of the medicinal properties of the spring water in the area and the social life in the resort town, especially during the Japanese occupation when it became a hub for prostitutes. 

A little further up the hilly road were public hot baths, an orchid garden and a thermal pool bubbling intensely with sulphur activity. At the edge of town, at the foot of the surrounding mountains was an old Japanese Shinto shrine, the Puji Temple. 

The place had it's share if tourists but wasn't overcrowded. But barring one lady from Australia, everyone was of Oriental stock: Taiwanese, Mainlanders, Japanese and Koreans. Taiwan isn't on anybody's radar in the west. I don't think it's a place worth flying halfway around the world for, but if one lives in Singapore or HK, it's definitely worth a visit. Despite being akin to an alien, I only got the odd quick glance from the locals, quite unlike my trip to Indonesia where the locals' favorite pastime is to get clicked with foreigners, even though they see seem frequently. 

My next stop of the day was the seaside town of Tamsui, it's chief attraction being it's Main Street lined with food stores, boutiques, colonial buildings and Chinese temples. The heat and humidity meant I wasn't in the mood for too much exploration, but nevertheless paid a visit to the highly recommended colonial-era Fort Santiago. A stone's throw from the water and at a slight elevation, it was the British consulate general's residence for a while and had on display fine Victorian era furniture in its rooms.

A short bus ride from the fort got me to the Fisherman's wharf , a complex of modern restaurants by the water attracting the locals for sunset . It was just past noon yet, but I couldn't fathom how a sunset with big merchant ships along the horizon could be romantic .

In the afternoon I visited the Chiang Kai Shek memorial hall, a massive white Chinese style building with a blue roof, inspired by the temple of heaven in Beijing.  Inside, the CKS statue was flanked by two guards dressed in blue uniforms.

A wide walkway surrounded by gardens extended from the memorial to the gates on the opposite end of the complex , and on either side of the walkway were the National Theater and National Opera. These were near mirror images of each other, styled like a Chinese temple, replete with red and gold with dashes of blue and green. It was heartening to see that performances were scheduled for what was a Saturday afternoon, and families with young kids were flocking  there to enjoy theater and music.

I took an hour's nap at the hotel and then made my way to Lungshan temple. My hunch is that the Taiwanese are more religious than the Chinese diaspora across the globe: an intense fervor pervaded the temple, much stronger than what I felt in say Beijing, Penang or Hong Kong. 

I had heard a lot about the delicious streetfood in Taiwan, but being a vegetarian I didn't live myself a chance of trying much. Part of the problem was figuring out if something was vegetarian: few spoke English and I wasn't carrying my "no meat no chicken no fish no seafoodno egg" card that helped me greatly on my mainland trip. But to my pleasant surprise this almost turned out to be a gastronomic trip. 

One of the most famous night markets in Taiwan, the Raohe street market, was right adjacent to the Lungshan temple. Now the name "night market" conjures images of street markets in Thailand where foreigners congregate to shop for souvenirs, organic soaps and "I love Phuket" t-shirts, and get a fish spa or massage. However, in Taiwan a night market is a place where the locals unwind after a long day of work, eat a lot, throw darts, rifle-shoot balloons and perhaps do a bit of shopping as well. 

I tried a Bhutta with a twist: instead of being scrubbed with a dash of lime and masala, it came with a coating of peanut sauce, and was quite delicious. I had a taro-filled bread roll which was ok and then filled up with fried tofu and a complement of veggies which was respectable. Having spend two years in Singapore I had never tried bubble tea: I gave it a shot here and while it's not something I would have often again, I did enjoy that serving. 

The last destination of the day was the Taipei business district, dominated by the unique shape of the Taipei 101 tower. There were the usual big malls with their food courts and designer stores. I was still quite hungry after all the walking through the day and had a slice of New York style cheese pizza before retiring to the hotel for the day. 

My first destination the next morning was the Yehliu Geopark, a site of interesting rock formations caused by the combined actions of the sea and wind, going by interesting names such as Queen's Head and Fairy's shoe. It was a Sunday and this place was fairly overrun with local tourists, and there was a long queue to take a selfie in front of the Queen's Head.

Next stop was Jiufen, a booming mining town during late 1800s-early 1900s, and now a tourist town for those aching for a slice of life from the past. Its main attraction was the Jishan shopping street, a winding cobblestone alley situated atop a ridge. There were the usual souvenir shops, but the main draw was food. The star attraction was the famous Pineapple cake, which I sampled but didn't really like. Another bestseller was a curious concoction: a thin pancake rolled over a scoop of ice-cream topped with crushed peanut. I tried one and did not dislike it, but the flavours did not seem to work too well together.

A short bus ride up the hill was the town of Jinguashi, where I visited the Gold Museum. Within the museum, there was the residence of the Japanese Prince, a mining tunnel which was now meant for tourists, an art gallery, and the usual cafes and gift shops. A few hundred steps above the museum was the remnants of a Shinto shrine, with the remaining pillars reminiscent more of a Greek ruin rather than a Japanese temple.

As dusk, I returned to Taipei City to see the Confucius and Paoan temples which stood in adjacent blocks.The Confucius temple was closed for worship but one could still walk in and stroll in the courtyard and the main hall. The Paoan temple, one of the most important temples in the city alongside the Lungshan temple I visited the day before, was ornate and colourful and had quite a few devotees.

The last stop of the day Shilin Night Market, the largest one in Taipei. It didn't mean more shopping, just  more food and more gamestalls. Nevertheless,  I bought a pair of shoes for Jyoti and a bib for Ishaan.  I was very hungry by now and first up had what can be best described as a fluffy paratha with herbs. It was quite appetizing even sans any filling, for which there were only meat options. Next up was a mixture of beans, moong, rice, and a couple of jellies, topped up with shaved ice. It was tastier than it sounds, and healthy as well, and offered much needed respite from the humidity. A group of young Taiwanese women who spoke fluent English were at the same stall and it was good to have a flowing conversation after a couple of lonesome days.

The next dish I tried was like a kachori wrapped in a chapatti, except that the kachori didn't have any filling. This one was a big thumbs down. The dessert for the evening was fried milk: a few cubes of solidified milk (not sure if it was made using a process similar to that of paneer)  dipped in a milk based sauce, and then flash fried for a few seconds in oil to produce a slightly crunchy golden exterior to cover the gooey filling.

I had planned to visit some museums and art galleries the next day, but it was a Monday and like many other cities globally, Monday was the day off!  The palace museum was open and it contains the world's largest collection of Chinese artifacts, but I was put off by reviews of large tour groups making it a noisy place. Instead I headed to Huashan 1914 Creative Park, a factory turned retro-chic destination with designer boutiques, stylish restaurants and art galleries. There were quite a few exhibitions going on, albeit with steep entry charges and displays only in Chinese, catering to children and youth. There was a lego play area, an exhibit of stuffed animals and one featuring displays about some famous local comic book franchise I obviously hadn't heard about.

That was it, and it was time for me to head back to the airport. This wasn't by any means a great trip: nothing that I saw or experienced was a must-do. You don't expect much, no one else is heading there, and you come back with these little memories you want to write about before you forget!

A fleeting visit to the Philippines

Tweet

Back in 2002, when I was spent eight weeks in Tokyo as an intern, the only English channel available on TV was BBC News. I vividly remember an ad that ran frequently during breaks. A camera, presumably aboard a chopper, would zoom into a tiny, sun-kissed, green island surrounded by turquoise water. And then a caption in small font  would appear at the top “If you do not like this one, we have 6,537 more (or some number like that) ”, accompanied by a logo of Philippines tourism at bottom

  

Rewind a further 17 years, and on a tour of South East Asia in 1985, my parents had visited Bangkok, Pattaya, Hong Kong, Singapore, and as strange as it sounds, Manila. I recall them describing, many a time over the next couple of decades, shopping for cotton clothes and getting drenched under a waterfall aboard a bamboo raft.

With these memories working at their subconscious level and having received rave reviews from friends who had recently visited, I was keen to pay a visit for a long time. Once I even booked tickets to Manila, but had to cancel the trip at the last moment as I had a job interview coming up. It was in a way a stroke of good luck, as when I finally did go, I added Boracay to the plan as well.

Traveling is hugely liberating in the sense that it gives you a chance at an alternate life. I like to travel like a cash strapped student would: it’s something I should have done in my teenage and early twenties, but it's never too late to live your dreams. I thus decided to take an overnight flight to Manila to save a night of hotel expense. A typhoon had hit Manila just  that day and schools and offices were closed, but hoping that normalcy would be restored the next day, I headed to the airport  after work, slept for a few hours on at the Singapore airport, and boarded the 2 am flight to reach Manila at 5:30 in the morning.

The airport terminal was like a bus station, and like one in a third world country. Money exchange counters were closed, there was no coffee and the tourist information counter staff was "attending to something just as important", as a placard on the desk mentioned. Armed with a map of the Manila train system, and another one of the area surrounding the hotel, I swapped the comforts of an airport cab in favor of Manila's chaotic public transport. Walking out of the airport, I hopped onto a Jeepney - think of a really long Mahindra Jeep, with ten seats on each side at the back instead of 2 or 3. It dropped me at the Baclaran station, where at 6am in the morning, about 100 other Jeepneys were lined one after another heading to different parts of the city. These Jeepneys and the metro were the backbone of the public transport system, complemented by buses in some modern parts of town and cycle rickshaws in the older ones. I took the metro to Quirino station, and a short walk through a patch of slum, a slew  of seedy bars, and a row of quaint restaurants and guesthouses brought me to my hotel. It was located in the old precinct of Malate, an erstwhile thriving neighborhood that fell to unscrupulous elements and is now fighting back to restore its old world charm.

In almost every blog, I write that the locals were friendly, but Filipinos have got to be strong contenders for the title of the friendliest people on the planet:  I was greeted by the hotel staff with warm smiles, and smiles I got in plenty all through the rest of the trip. I dropped off my small backpack at the hotel and spent the morning exploring the old neighborhoods of Manila.

After a short peek into the nearby Malate Church, I walked west towards Manila Bay and then headed north along the promenade where some locals were taking their morning walks. The atmosphere was somewhat akin to the Worli Sea Face: a mix of modern and dilapidated buildings,  the grey sea, cars whizzing by, but minus the sea link. I turned eastward at the US Embassy and entered Rizal Park, named after the hero of the Filipino's freedom movement towards the end of the 19th century. He was executed in this area and a memorial was setup to honor him.

 A short walk from the park brought me to the walled city of Intramuros, the historic core of Manila during the Spanish occupation. It seemed that every building there was built over and over again about 7 or 8 times: destroyed by earthquake, then by British invasion, then again by an earthquake, then perhaps by the Japanese invasion, then again by an earthquake, and so on. Most of the town lay in shabby condition, with the exception of a few well maintained buildings used as Government offices, shops or business centers. The most impressive of the lot was the San Augustin Church, with its beautiful cathedral and cloisters-turned-museum. 

A block away was the Manila Cathedral, whose façade was strongly inspired by the Notre Dame in Paris, though nowhere as stately.

 A couple of hundred yards north of the Intramuros gates was Fort Santiago: destroyed for the most part except some walls, the main gate and some storehouses. A museum dedicated to the life of Rizal stood in the compound. 

Across the river from Intramuros was Quiapo: it is to Manila what Bhuleshwar is to Mumbai or Chandni Chowk to Delhi. A mad rush of shops, street vendors, people, and vehicles of all shapes and sizes -  to the extent permitted by the narrow streets. Given the heavy downpour the previous day, the area was littered with filth and I wanted to get out soon. I nevertheless paid short visits to the Quiapo and Santa Cruz churches: these were quite ordinary from the historical or architectural perspective, but were overflowing with devotees even on a Saturday.

It was past noon by this time and I headed back to the hotel and took a nice siesta. In the evening I headed to Makati City, the face of modern Manila. I had to change train lines at the Taft Avenue terminus, where I encountered the most bizarre ritual I have ever seen at a train station. Given the small size of the station, all departing passengers were kept on hold behind turnstiles as the arriving ones cleared the premises. Then they had to wait again at the entrance to the platform as passengers of another arriving train alighted. A hundred-plus staff was managing this complicated boarding and alighting process. I have boarded a plane faster in some instances than it took me to get onto a local train here.

 Makati was quite the opposite of old manila: wide roads instead of narrow streets, big malls in place of street markets, skyscrapers giving way to slums, order and cleanliness in place of chaos and filth. Surrounding the core of office buildings and malls were "villages": it seemed the elites of Filipino society occupied the large bungalows therein. Manila was a challenging place in terms of finding vegetarian food on the go. Even the sphagetti available at Jollibees, the largest chain of fast food restaurants in the Philippines, contained pork in it. Train stations had stalls selling dumplings and rice-and-meat combos, and there were no veggie options. 

As a result, I had survived the day so far on apples, bananas, chocolate milk and mixed nuts. Makati however had a wide selection of international cuisine: I got a nice pizza at one of the local joints, headed back to the hotel and called it a day.

The city was abuzz at 5 am in the morning, on a Sunday, as I headed to the airport for my flight to Boracay. I took a Jeepney to an intermediate point and changed to another one to the airport: given that even the most uneducated Filipino spoke a bit of English, and was ever willing to help, even the madness that was Manila was becoming navigable. My flight was from the new terminal, which was somewhat closer to international standards. Witnessing Sunday mass at the "chapel" right next to the check in area was somewhat of a shock. This country took its Catholic faith very seriously. Even in the Makati malls I had strolled through the previous evening, I had noticed signs for chapels within the premises. But to be clear about the multicultural ethos, there was a Muslim prayer room as well at the airport. 

An hour's flight aboard a 50  seater Bombardier to Caticlan airport, a 5 minute walk to the ferry nearby, a ten minute boat ride across the strait to Boracay and a half hour walk took me to the gorgeous White Beach, consistently voted as one of the best in the world the past few years. 4 kms of white sand, blue water and coconut trees, with blue-and-white sailboats on the horizon and kites in the sky. The thing about beach vacations is that there isn’t much to blog about. You get magnificent 

views from the flight, run barefoot on the soft sand, have a beer, take a dip in the water, have a beer again, get a massage, have another beer, and eat a lot all day long, and then repeat the whole routine the next day.

Except that I don’t drink that much, and I didn’t have another day at this earthly paradise. The long return trip included the walk back to the jetty, the boat ride, then a 2 hour bus ride to Kalibo airport - a different one from the one I arrived at - and a longish flight which included a stopover at Cebu. I am transgressing from the topic here, but in case you have read my blog about Why I read, endless waits can be a source of pleasure if you have a good book in hand. On the way back, I plodded through a few chapters of Godel, Escher, Bach: it’s a book about how "strange loops" can give rise to intelligence. It intertwines music, art, mathematics, artificial intelligence, genetics, zen Buddhism, Achilles and much more! It’s a mind bender, but it’s a book which you will either give up after 100 pages, or add it to your all time top 10 list!