Taiwan, October 31 – November 4, 1981
Great gaping holes in the pavement; endless and apparently ancient construction zones; dilapidated buses and rusty old vehicles; and garbage everywhere. Bleak concrete block and rebar buildings, mostly half-finished, or finished and already decaying, falling apart at the seams.
A pervasive, depressing, greyness and dirtiness.
In the streets, thousands upon thousands of motor-scooters, belching noxious blue fumes, zig-zagging in and out through the melee of trucks and cars, overwhelming the sidewalks, where they are also parked, making being a pedestrian a daunting and dangerous activity.
Also in the mix, the countless noodle-soup stands where people stand or sit and slurp down bowls of noodles with a few pieces of lettuce or cabbage floating on top. The soup makers and street vendors, unconstrained by any standards of hygiene or food safety, prepare hot and cold items, including raw and cooked meats – chop, chop on the same surface – and pass them to a sea of waiting, usually none too clean, hands. Used soup bowls are tossed into buckets of grimy water, given a quick swish, and refilled. Leftovers and wrappings, of which there are few, are simply dropped on the ground, contributing to the mounting sea of garbage underfoot, or blown by the winds, or grabbed by dogs or desperately hungry children.
And yet, despite the obvious poverty here, fruit and vegetables are remarkedly pricey. One large mandarin orange – 50 cents. One pound of bananas – 75 cents. A soft drink – 75 cents. Coffee - $1.50. We have found it very difficult to find vegetable dishes in a restaurant. It’s all meat, fish, rice and noodles. This evening we bought a little jar of ‘peanuts butter’ for the train tomorrow. It’s actually peanut candy, more sugar than nuts, and it’s already in the garbage. All ‘juice’ drinks are heavily sugared. So as mostly vegetarians who generally avoid sugar, we’re having a hard time finding things we can eat. This, added to the noise, pollution and oppressive heat here in Taipei prompted us to cut our in Taipei short. The next day we headed south by train – hoping to find something a little greener, cleaner and quieter.
Unfortunately we found the smaller, ‘tourist’ town of Hualien no better than Taipei. The pollution, the filth, the noise and the unexpected (and in our view unwarranted) expense, combined with the lack of any interesting culture, have discouraged us from going any further south. What we can’t understand are the number and size (ie. large) of tourist-type hotels in this town. Who stays in them? Were they built with an expectation of foreign tourists, or do the Taiwanese use them? (And if so, how can they afford to pay for them, and food, and…). This city’s streets, like Taipei, are lined with shops selling trinkets (a lot of coral and jade) and sweets. It’s quite a trick to find real food or anything one might be tempted to buy. Quite a place.
The draw to the town is likely explained by the proximity of the Taroko Gorge. The Gorge is one of only three in the world where a river has cut through pure marble. Although it became a national treasure and a park in 1986, it was still a somewhat hidden gem when we went there. A huge earthquake in 2024 caused extensive damage to the gorge, and it is no longer easily accessible. But in 1981 we hopped on an old bus, pretty much filled with Taiwanese and Chinese tourists, but no other Western tourist). The bus made its way slowly on the narrow road, winding its way through the gorge, at times on bridges over the beautiful blue Liwu River, and at times passing through tunnels of solid marble. We got out at a couple of places to admire the marble veins, the turquoise blue river, and several sets of waterfalls, dropping from great heights.
It was a spectacular journey. It was also quite a long journey – maybe 6 or 8 hours. And for me the length of it was significantly increased by a nagging pelvic pain – more than an ache, but less than a sharp knife. The wonderful scenery was insufficient distraction, so I spent the time coming up with names for the children D and I were not planning to have (for him it would be some time in the future; for me, it was not in the cards, and hadn’t been for some time). I did the whole thing with initials that could potentially spell bad or silly or stupid things, or nicknames that might be unfortunate. So ‘Willow’ and ‘Reid’ were out of the running as the likelihood, with D being well over 6’ tall, and super svelte (some would say thin), was that a kid of ours might be tall and slim. Similarly Brian Robert Atkins was out of the question, for obvious reasons.
The only name I came up with that ‘stuck’ was ‘Wilson.’ And that for two reasons: the first that my father’s name was ‘Wilson,’ and the second that the nickname ‘Will’ appealed to me as a great believer in the concept of free will, as in “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.” D was somewhat amused by my ramblings, but too engrossed in the scenery to take much notice.
Our journey ended in Tai Chung, a surprisingly clean and modern town with good restaurants and good stores with all the latest European fashions. The Taiwanese and Chinese tourists flocked to the. We found a decent hotel and considered our options over the best dinner we’d had in Taiwan. I was worried enough about whatever ‘female issues’ I was having that I wanted to see a doctor. As Canada did not have diplomatic relations with Taiwan, and very few people spoke English, it seemed like the best bet was for us to fly to Hong Kong, where vestiges of the British Empire were likely to ensure some well trained and reliable English speaking doctors.
Fortunately there were several travel agencies in Tai Chung. Unfortunately we were advised that all flights from Tai Pei to Hong Kong were fully booked until November 13. We decided to head back to Tai Pei, fortunately on a shorter, more direct route, and then to the airport to plead our case. I had no idea what kind of argument might manage to get an airline to open up a spot for a couple of Canadian tourists, but D had a brilliant idea. He invented a story that struck a chord: “My wife is pregnant and needs to see an English speaking doctor in Hong Kong right away.” That got us seats on the next available flight, and as we were flying over the South China Sea – and the Tropic of Cancer! – we had a good laugh over how easy it had been.
For more information on Taroko Gorge and Taroko National Park try: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taroko_National_Park
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