Search for Serenity in Taiwan

Travel Story by Sharon Spence Lieb

Taipei, Taiwan

It is midnight in downtown Taipei, but the Night Market is wide awake.

Vendors in minuscule outdoor booths call out in Mandarin and English, enticing me with their glittering jewelry, boom boxes, and lady's lingerie. Hungry shoppers eye whole chicken heads and squid tentacles sizzling on blackened grills. Tourists and local couples, students, and businessmen throng thepungent smoky streets, searching for bargains among acres of Rolex knock offs, 'Chanel' handbags, and 'Gucci' scarves. A wizened shopkeeper plucks a wriggling 3-foot snake from its wire cage, squeezing its blood and bile into a metal cup, for a 'snake cocktail'. Which is stronger, my horror or fascination? I'm not sure.

"For men only," he grins, making a friendly toast and taking a swig. "Make last long time." The crowd around me laughs, and I smirk, trying to hide my embarrassment. I'm Alice in Wonderland wandering through an Asian style Las Vegas. I'm tired from the flashing neon lights and booths blaring rock and roll and I wander back to my hotel room close-by.

Gazing out the window at Taipei's skyline of modern high-rises, I wonder if this is what the Portuguese mariners had in mind when they sighted Taiwan from their 16th century galleons, and pronounced "Ilha Formosa! Ilha Formosa (beautiful island)!" Of course they never imagined future conquerors-the Chinese, Dutch, Spanish, French, Japanese, and Chinese again in 1945-would leave behind a population of over 20 million on this tiny island just 245 miles long and 89.5 miles wide.

Taipei is fascinating, but people are stressed by living and working in too little space. Each morning I'd walk by The World Trade Center, where taxis would unload exhibitors, buyers, sellers, importers, exporters, and trade reps into meetings and conventions for 10,000 enthusiastic dealmakers. Locals blast past me en masse on their motorcycles on their way to work, honking and slipping off facemasks at red lights for a quick smoke. Jack hammers pound round the clock, hurling glass grid office towers and high-rise apartments skyward for the ever-expanding populace. It's not easy for residents or visitors to find "Ilha Formosa's" serenity in the midst of Taiwan's rush to success.

Just where is the Beautiful Island those Portuguese mariners had discovered, I wonder, idly turning the pages of my "Official Guidebook to Taiwan. There on page 107, is the answer. "Taroko Gorge is the most popular of Taiwan's scenic spots. Rushing river waters cut through ancient marble stones, where waterfalls and patches of mist cling to mountains surrounded by subtropical forests. The National Park is just 2 hours north of downtown Taipei by train."

Waterfalls and patches of mist? Subtropical forests? I pack my suitcase, bid goodbye to the neon city lights, and settle under the covers for a good night's rest. Serenity is just a train ride away.

At the Taipei train station the next morning, I buy a $20 round trip ticket and head north to Hualien and Taroko Gorge. Speeding through towns of stained grey concrete buildings, garbage dumps of car parts, and back porches of laundry drying in factory smog, I wonder if the Official Guidebook author had taken the same train. Could waterfalls and subtropical forests really exist among all this?

Squalid villages finally give way to lovely farms of emerald green rice paddies, where graceful white cranes wait on one leg for lunch. Shallow streams are noisy with bobbing baby ducks. On the banks, their older brothers and sisters are caged, on their way to Taipei's five star restaurants.

As the hills rise higher and higher, we enter a mountain tunnel, plunging into darkness for several miles. Perhaps it's the stress from a busy week, but the darkness brings on a feeling of depression- where am I going anyway, and what did I hope to find? Suddenly a group of school children in my compartment burst into "London Bridge Is Falling Down", in Chinese. Their sweet voices melt my momentary black cloud, the train shoots out of the tunnel into blinding sunshine— A sapphire Pacific Ocean crashes against the rocky shoreline.

Over two hours later we pull into Hualien, on Taiwan's east coast. The mountains, the sea, and the children's choir, has put me in a lovely mood. I show a taxi driver my Official Guide, page 107. His smile says he knows the way.

Thirty minutes later, we are in front of Taroko Gorge Visitor Center, a modern brick building at the base of a lushly forested mountain. Two park officials meet my taxi door. Do all visitors receive such a personal greeting?

"I am Mr. Yo," says the Center Director. "Welcome to Taroko Gorge."

Wearing a green tee shirt and khaki pants, Mr. Yo is all smiles and shiny black hair. His associate, a petite young woman, looks very serious behind her spectacles.

"May I introduce Ms. Sophie Su? She will be your guide for today,"says Mr. Yo.

"Guide?" I stammer. " I thought I'd get a park map, and just wander around...by myself."

"Taroko Gorge is much too big for exploration by yourself," he smiled, as though my idea is preposterous. "We have 92,000 hectares of forests, and mountains 3,740 meters high!"

Hectares and meters...let's see, that's-

"That's 360 square miles and 12,262 feet," states Ms. Su matter of fact. She would be gorgeous if she smiled.

"Nice to meet you," I say. "I'm looking forward to seeing the park."

"First, you must see our Visitor Center, which is well known throughout Taiwan for unique displays," intones Ms. Su, leading me into a fancy exhibit room with dozens of TV monitors and aerial park photographs. "These interactive videodisc kiosks feature complete information on the park, and databases continually updated with our climatic statistics."

Climactic statistics? Ms. Su's technical jargon is confusing enough in English, but the videodiscs are in Chinese. I punch a few buttons, pretending to study the pie charts to please her.

"Fascinating! Now may I see the park?"

"First, you must visit our state of the art auditorium. In fact, our slide program is just about to begin."

She escorts me into the dark auditorium. Groping along the rows, I shiver in the frigid air conditioning, and take a seat. With great musical fanfare, red velvet curtains raise, and as the first slide appears; I see that of the 200 plush seats, only mine is taken. Twenty minutes later, I've seen dozens of pie charts, statistics, drawings, graphics and models of future park buildings and roads. I've learned simultaneously from Chinese and English narrators that there are 122 species of birds, 14 species of amphibians, 108 species of butterflies, and 24 species of large mammals, including wild boar.

By now I would be delighted to encounter a wild boar, or even a fire-breasted flowerpecker, if I could escape this refrigerated auditorium and get out into the warm sunny park. "You look cold," says Ms. Su, as I hurry out of the auditorium."

"Now can I see the park?" I ask through chattering teeth.

"First we must have some hot coffee. Freshly brewed, American style." Ms. Su smiles for the first time. I dare not refuse herhospitality. The coffee is delicious. There's even milk and sugar at the swank Euro style coffee bar. If I had several days, instead of having to catch my return train in 4 hours, the steaming cup would be positively luxurious. But I gulp it down and stand, grabbing my camera as a hint.

Mr. Yo appears, smiling and bowing, and has a whispered conversation with Ms. Su in Chinese. Taking care of important business. There seems to be a disagreement, which Ms. Su is clearly winning. Finally, Mr. Yo acquiesces, and they turn to me, smiling broadly.

"You must be very hungry after your long journey," Mr. Yo begins. He glances at Ms. Su who solemnly nods in agreement.

"Oh not at all," I assure them. " I ate a delicious box lunch on the train, and I'm ready for a good long hike. Right now in fact."

I gaze out the floor to ceiling windows of the Visitors Center. Is that a fire-breasted flowerpecker in that dwarf bamboo?

"First we will visit our park restaurant," said Ms. Su firmly.

At least this is a move in the right direction. I follow Ms. Su outside. Anyone who has traveled throughout Asia knows the Chinese are big eaters. There's no such thing as a snack or even a light meal. How they stay thin is a complete mystery. But even I fall into shock when a waiter serves a six-course lunch of whole steamed fish, chicken and cashews, black mushrooms and bamboo shoots, bowls of fresh tomatoes, egg soup, and strawberry ice cream with chocolate sauce.

Ms. Su watches, making sure I consume every morsel.

"Delicious," I thank her. "Who would think here in the middle of a park, one could enjoy such a feast? Now I have even more energy for a hike." (Actually a nap would be even better.)

"Would you like to see the park now?" Ms. Su asks, wiping the fudge sauce from her delicate mouth.

"Why not?" I say, looking at my watch. Only two hours until my train leaves for Taipei. And 30 minutes of that would be spent in the taxi back to Hualien train station. I sigh, feeling very resigned, and very full.

A cloud of yellow butterflies escorts Ms. Su and I down the steep sandy trail to the Liwu River. The pathway is strewn with hundreds of pink, white, and brown marble stones. Scrambling down the riverbank, our conversation is drowned by the roar ofsurging water. I climb onto a huge boulder to listen, the fragrant spray caressing my face. Across a thundering river, a marble cliff looms hundreds of feet, each pink, white and beige layer with its own history. I'm mesmerized by Taroko's spell.

The din of Taipei's frenzied Night Market flits across my mind. I'm seduced by Ilha Formosa's serenity.

"Come there's more," Ms. Su whispers, taking my arm.

We drive through the 'Tunnel of Nine Turns', tunnels carved from the mountainside like curled onion rings. Around and around the narrow cliff-side road, the Liwu snaking along a dizzying thousand feet below. The road unwinds into a dead end; high above the same splendid turquoise Pacific Ocean I had seen from the train.Ms. Su gestures to the row of mountains we've just driven through.

"Nice Park," she smiles.

Time to catch my train, but Ms. Su has one more surprise in store for me. "We have another slide show that you must see, before you leave," she explains, her voice gentle now. "Only for special visitors."

Again I'm the only person in the freezing auditorium. More pie charts I thought, disappointed at having seen so little of Taroko Gorge, and now on my way back to Taipei's concrete jungle.

This time the big screen unveils the Taroko Gorge I would have to discover on a future visit: ethereal 'patches of mist'- seas of clouds clinging to the mountains. Dense forests, green in summer, snow dusted in winter. Wild boar, Samovar deer, jungles of pink and yellow flowers. Tattooed faces of the Taiya villagers on the Liwu River terraces. No droning narrator reciting empty marketing statistics, just poetic flute and piano music.

Embarrassing tears roll down my cheeks. Although I'd glimpsed a bit of Taroko Gorge's beauty, here on screen was the Ilha Formosa the Portuguese mariners had discovered.

Ms. Su hands me a tissue.

"Sorry," I mumble, blowing my nose. " I guess Taroko Gorge has gotten to me."

"I hope so Sharon," she said quietly. "That was the whole idea."

Illustration by Bob Veon
(Bob Veon's Website

Read more about the author of this story:
Sharon Spence Lieb

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