Since the city is home to my host mother's mother, and is my host mother's hometown, she decided it would be best to go on Mid Autumn Festival, a festival that originally commemorated the full moon and harvest season, and now traditionally involves roasting meat and eating moon cakes with one's family/friends. And of course, there is a whimsical myth to support it, involving a famous archer named Hou Yi shooting down nine moons, after one night ten mysteriously rose, leaving one to support the earth. This story is frequently told and retold in various iterations, and I probably just misconstrued it, but this is my best effort.
Hualien, as is frequently told and retold by the majority of Taiwanese people is also overrun by Mainland tourists, following the liberalization of travel across the Strait. You will also hear this same opinion expressed towards nearly every tourist site in Taiwan, all of which are apparently no longer the same now that the mainland tourists have set in. Apparently they are loud, impolite, don't wait properly in lines, and too large in number. This view, however is not unique to Taiwan, and as the mainland middle class grows, stories of Chinese tourists behaving uniquely apparently grow as well (The Shanghaiist Links Below illustrate such stories). This crowding made it nearly impossible for us to purchase train tickets, and I was told that we would have to stand, or find space on the floor to sit, as my host family does not own a car. The option of standing on long distance trains is fairly common in East Asia, however is still pretty strange to foreign tourists. At the last minute however, we managed to beat the hordes of ticket buyers, and secure two tickets on the next day's train.
The next day, after school, I met my host mother at the Taipei Train Station, where we boarded a train bound for Hualien. In fact, there were many people standing in the train's aisle, and lounging in the vestibule, however I was very glad that I had someplace to sit for the following three hours. After the train's arrival, we were picked up by my host grandmother. I'm not usually one to comment on how one's possessions might suit one's personality, but it was somewhat funny seeing my host grandmother drive a large van (not mini-van) as her vehicle of choice, a vehicle that has nothing to do with her work, and is instead, according to her, just a matter of personal preference. We then drove through the city, and bought some midnight snacks. While purchasing the snacks, I by coincidence saw a Taiwanese college-age student wearing a shirt bearing the logo of another Rotary Youth Exchange district. It turns out he was an exchange student in Brazil five years ago with Rotary, and we ended up chatting for a short while.
The next day, we woke up and drove to Taroko Gorge, one of the most famous locations in Taiwan, a natural park famed for its natural beauty (and apparently Mainland tourists, which to me are indiscernible from the other tourists there). The park features a 19km road snaking around bends and through tunnels, while large majestic cliff faces rise on opposite sides of the adjacent river. We drove to the end of the gorge, taking pictures at various scenic locations along the way, finally reaching the end of the main road, a location known as Tianxiang. There we climbed a hill to a pagoda, and adjacent temple, after being asked by monks at the bottom if we would be able to bring various food and items for offerings to the top. Following that trek, we took a short trip to a museum commemorating the region's aboriginal heritage (Taiwan, like many western countries, historically treated its aboriginal inhabitants poorly, followed by recent promotion and celebration of aboriginal culture, especially during the Guomindang's years out of power). The short film there was in the local aboriginal language, however, with Mandarin subtitles, so understanding it was not the easiest task. Following that, we drove to a beautiful temple built over a flowing creek, similar to Fallingwater, which required walking through a series of underground caves to reach. The temple, however was not actually a temple, but instead a memorial to those that were killed building the road that stretched through the gorge, which was apparently one of the most dangerous construction projects ever undertaken in recent history. We then climbed a series of staircases, and one very long, very rickety rope bridge, to a relatively empty temple on top of one of the cliffs, where one could ring a bell, and hear its extensive reverberations.
That night, we arrived at my host grandmother's house to barbecue. Barbecuing has a significantly different meaning in Taiwan than it does in the United States however. Since most Taiwanese people don't own barbecue ovens, food is simply cooked over disposable grates, which in turn are placed over small metal tubs filled with charcoal. The charcoal does not light easily, and I've seen many extensive and bizarre means used to light it. The first time, blowtorches were used, at some points not even blowtorching the charcoal, but cooking the meat by blowtorching the food itself. That night, my host grandmother brought out a large three foot household fan, and held it over the weak fire for a long period of time until it grew in strength. Then various pieces of raw meat, tofu, seafood and vegetables are placed over the grate and cooked to a crisp. The night was shared by my host mother's cousin, twenty years younger than her, and a series of international masters and Phd students from her Hualien university (from Russia, France and India), as well as several Taiwanese students and neighbors. In all it was a great night, spent roasting food over a flame and chatting until very late.
The next day, despite having gone to sleep very late the previous night, I was woken sometime around 5 AM to climb a nearby mountain with my host grandmother and a group that apparently enjoys waking up at five AM to climb the same mountain every week (I'm not sure why the climb must be so early). Walking four kilometers up the mountain, we saw the early morning light illuminate Hualien City and the Pacific, and spent a long period of time chatting at the top of the mountain, where I was criticized for eating too much chocolate (I can deal with most Taiwanese food, but I try to stay far away from traditional Taiwanese snack and trail food, some reading this might remember some certain "Cookies with Shallots"). After descending, we arrived home, and had a rather extensive home karaoke session, one that I was forced to participate in. East Asian enthusiasm towards karaoke is definitely stronger than American enthusiasm. After hearing a series of cheesy Taiwanese and Mandarin pop songs sung many times over, as well as badly altered American songs, in order to avoid copyright infringement, I decided to take a walk to the beach by myself. Now dark, I walked a mere two minutes, to find myself lost in the endless, infinite Pacific. It was cool knowing that if I were to follow the continuous water, it would eventually take me back to San Francisco, where I initially flew from. Walking around two miles next to the shore, where weather police were stationed in bright orange suits, I saw the ten foot waves rise, in preparation for the impending typhoon. It must be very unique to spend one's life living so close to the Pacific, though the bustle of a large city like Taipei is very nice as well. Realizing I was late, I sprinted that distance back, and collapsed, a thirsty mess on the couch. We then went out for dinner in Hualien, exploring the city's creative park and small but very commercialized main streets, where many families were barbecuing on the sidewalk for Mid Autumn day.
The next day, I woke up to find out we would not be staying that night, and instead would be going home that morning, due to the fact that all of the overbooked trains after 11:40 were cancelled due to the typhoon. We arrived at the train station at 11:00 to find a series of crowds running around, desperately trying to secure tickets. We stared as thick crowds stood in the aisles of trains, and I began to wonder if I would be able to do this myself for three hours. Somehow, my host mom guided me onto a train bound for Taipei that very few people seemed to be boarding, and despite the fact that our train was cancelled, and our ticket transferred to random seating/standing on any train, we sat down without any issue, and the relatively uncrowded train pulled away. Why the mess of people did not board that train, and instead boarded other trains, will forever remain a mystery to me. What I do know however, is that the supposedly three hour train ride ended up becoming a slow-moving four hour journey, which at least enabled me to see the enormous 3+ meter whitecaps that rose on the nearby beaches. After 4.5 long hours, we arrived home in Taipei, ran through the heavy winds to the apartment, and stayed there, as the winds and rain beat down for the rest of the day and night. Turning on the news (which almost exclusively became typhoon news for 24 hours), told me three things. 1) School was cancelled the next day. 2) Taipei's loved, stoic mayor Ko Wen-Je would not be heading home for dinner that night, instead staying in city hall to help direct the typhoon response (the media outlets loved this one).
3) The Hualien station was a complete mess at 9:00 that morning. In fact the station the news outlets taped was far more crowded than the station we arrived in before the last trains were about to depart. In the United States this would never happen, but I guess it indicates that Taiwanese people are very good at advance planning.
Until next time,
Ben Weinstein
http://shanghaiist.com/search?cx=001614944843134777762%3Afaruhvxoyke&cof=FORID%3A9&q=chinese%20tourist&sa=GO