Taipei 101

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Taipei 101

The architects and designers of Taipei 101, once the world’s tallest building (from 2004 – 2010, when the Dubai Burj was finished) took not only the physics of construction seriously, but also the metaphysics.  They made sure that the 508 m (1667′) tower wouldn’t be brought down by a typhoon wind, or a 2,500 year earthquake event, or by the forces of bad fung shui.  The “101” in it’s title, for instance,  is significant for more than just the number of floors: it goes one up on perfection (100 + 1), and is the same forwards and backwards – an eternal number.  To ensure stability, the structure is anchored on pylons sunk 50m into the bedrock – and there is no 44th floor.  Four is an unlucky number, so two fours must be worse.  Eight, however,  (as in 500m + 8 tall) is especially good because it is the luckiest number (7) plus 1.  Lots of math to absorb, and we haven’t even touched on the calculations of the bad-feng-shui deflecting fountain by the main entrance.

Bamboo or...

Bamboo or...

Whether the massive green glass structure looks like bamboo – the ultimate symbol of China and tensile strength – or a stack on take-away Chinese food boxes is yours to decide.  What can’t be doubted is that it dominates the city skyline.

Our friend Helen grew up in Taipei and very generously suggested we stay at her mother’s apartment, which wasn’t currently in use.  She also arranged for a car to meet us at the airport (most appreciated after 13 hrs. of flying and a 5:40 am arrival time) and take us there.  We stayed in Taipei for 6 days, but many of the things we found to be typical of the city we experienced in the first 6 hours.  1) Things work.  Whether it was Helen’s plan to get us to the apartment or the brilliant metro system, we were always whisked around efficiently.  2) The people are really friendly.  Although she spoke little English, the aunt warmed our hearts

At the BBQ

At the BBQ

showing us the apartment, and had a welcome pile of fruit on the table for us, as well as a (how did she know?) can of tonic.  3) There is food everywhere.  We had dinner

street market

street market

with Stewart, an old friend of Katheryn’s, and his wonderful partner Anna twice.  Once at their place, and once at what Stewart described as a not-to-be-missed local experience – an all-you-can-eat meat BBQ.  Fabulous, it must be said, and K got to pile up the Haagen-dazs for dessert.  Most of our eating, however, was done in the night markets which spring up all over town, or in one of the multitude of local restaurants where a plate of rice and 5 toppings cost about $1.50.

Stewart, who has been working as a teacher and actor in Taiwan for 11 years, was also a great source of information about the city.  Much of Taipei, he told us, was the result of the 50 year occupation of the island by the Japanese, which ended in

Japanese-era buildings

Japanese-era buildings

1944.  The vast acres of low-rise buildings with the characteristic small square “bathroom tile” facades are from this era.  Most of us know Taipei as the capital of a country called Taiwan.  It’s more complicated than that.  Officially, Taipei is still the provisional capital of China.  The Republic of China (ROC) that is.  The ROC was governed by Chiang Kai Shek and his Kuomintang (KMT) party from the fall of the last Qing Emperor in 1911 until 1949, when they were defeated by Mao’s Communists.  Then the KMT fled to the island of Taiwan, forming a government-in-exile until their eventual return as the legitimate rulers of China.  China (the People’s Republic, that is) has different views on the subject.  Each one considers the other to be occupied territory, a source of endless tension for themselves and the world.  A policy of deliberate ambiguity has become the

Sun yat-sen and friend

Sun yat-sen and friend

status quo, and a finely tuned ear for nuance has been developed on both sides.  For instance, Taiwan is happy enough that it’s biggest backer, the US, officially “does not support” independence, rather than “oppose” it, as the Chinese wish.  In the Olympics, Taiwanese athletes received medals for the fictitious country of “Chinese Taipei”, under a made-up flag while some song about the glorious Olympic committee played.  Stewart, playing a role recently, had to say “Formosa”, rather than “Taiwan”, in case it upset China.

We knew we had to see the “National Museum” where much of the cultural heritage of China ended up, transported with the fleeing KMT, but we didn’t know there are at least 4 variations on the name.  The one we wanted was the “National Palace

National Theatre

National Theatre

Museum” – and it was the 4th one we tried.  It speaks to me about the depth of the refinement of a culture where for 4000 years some of their greatest art has been put into the production of “wine vessels” – decantors (albeit big bronze ones) by any other name.

Thanks in no small way to Helen and Keith in Vancouver who encouraged us to stop in a place we had only transited through, and who made the arrangements to make our stay easy and fun, and to Anna and Stewart for showing us around and being such interesting hosts, we loved Taipei.  It’s not a tourist destination, which is one of the great things about it, and apart from the museums the only “site-seeing” we did was a large sprawling

Chinese cemetery

Chinese cemetery

cemetery on a hill behind Helen’s place. It doesn’t have the flash and glitz of Hong Kong, or the polished languorousness  of Singapore, or the bustle and charm of Bangkok, but I can see why it would be a tempting place to live, and we even talked about retail opportunities with Stewart.  It was a great way to start our trip.

For more photos of Taipei go to the Flickr link via our web site:  https://www.kebeandfast.com
or click on the link directly here: http://www.flickr.com

Bra salesman

Bra salesman

/photos/croquet/sets/72157632020763267/

For the video experience, go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yFYed31lghw&feature=share&list=UUzPNkH_3cH9Oz3q-g71UkUA

Signing off from the ROC, Your Foreign Devil Correspondents

FROM VANCOUVER ISLAND TO BONAVISTA

Farthest East

We are used to travelling great distances by air in the other direction: across the Pacific to Asia. Now we get on a plane and fly and fly, wait in an airport and fly some more – and we are still in Canada! The occasion is a birthday party in Newfoundland. My father is turning 80, and my sister is 50, and even though they live in Winnipeg it seemed it would be more fun to celebrate in Newfoundland. We mine a family connection – my father’s sister-in-law’s brother – who has a vacation property near Tickle Cove, and my mother and father, my sister, my two nephews and Katheryn and I all find the time to make the trip to the other Far East.

We are out of our house at 5:30 a.m. to catch the flight, but it’s not until 9:30 p.m. that Jane and the boys – Adrian and Andrew – pick us up in St John’s. Tickle Cove is still 3 hours away, and we need food, so we decide to find something in town. It takes about 5 minutes to fall in love with St. John’s. The airport is so close to downtown it’s like a friend who’s just nipped out of a kitchen party for a quick smoke. The houses butt up against each other on the steep streets like old chums, and yards and fences have been done away with so that you can pop in on your neighbours for a visit even quicker. Walking down Duckworth St. the first locals we meet stop us and give us the traditional greeting: Looking for something to eat? You could always come back to our place…

We pick up some take-away from Get Stuffed, where the server warns us about the highway to Tickle Cove. Drive safely, she says, it’s Moose Alley up there. I’m thinking about this as we leave St. John’s and drive into the fog. Adrian has set the mood, putting on Great Big Sea. The road is a black strip that dissolves 20 ft. in front of us. We pass two moose, but what almost does us in is a huge Great Horned Owl sitting squarely in the middle of the road as we crest a hill, staring at me with the gaze of a mad alchemist disturbed in the middle of a ritual sacrifice.

The house where we stay is actually in Open Hall, just a skip and a tad from Red Cliff which is a gull’s breathe from Tickle Cove. It is absolutely gorgeous, with only a bit of scrub and a massive blueberry patch between it and the rocky coast. The next day, for a special dinner, we decide to buy a fresh fish. There are 3 problems with this: 1) the fishery has been closed for 15 years and all the locals have left; 2) the periodic food fishery has just finished, and the catch is all gone; 3) the guys down on the wharf explaining this to me talk with such a heavy accent I only understand about 30% of what is said.

It often seems, in fact, like a foreign language and a foreign country, and that we have somehow pulled a sneaky when we buy something and pay with Canadian money. There are still lots of people upset with Joey Smallwood for bringing Newfoundland into confederation, as the number of tri-coloured Republic of Newfoundland flags we see points out.

For a week we never leave the Bonavista Peninsula. It’s a spectacular landscape of charming villages and dramatic headlands, the stunted trees and tundra-like moors a testament to the heavy weather. I am surprised to learn that we are south of the 49th, south of our own lush, temperate, palm-tree-growing coast. One day Jane, Adrian, Andrew, Katheryn and I walk out to the very edge of Canada, to a wild promontory east of The Dungeons, a natural arch outside of Bonavista. The cliffs fall away sheer into the ocean, and we pose on jutting rocks, or crawl to the lip and peer fearlessly at the churning water below. A few puffins remain from the nesting season, and one zooms round and round an off-shore crag like he’s at an amusement park, two fish dangling from his beak.

This is enough inducement for my Dad, a keen birder. We are told there are still puffins at Elliston, also renowned as “The Root-cellar Capital of the World”. Puffins are spotted, but what steals the show is the ocean. The day is calm and, for Newfoundland, almost sunny, but immense swells are rolling in and crashing in dramatic plumes on the cliffs. We learn later that a freak convergence of storms far off-shore generated these waves, including one massive “rogue wave” which hit the coast just north of St. John’s and nearly dragged a beach full of picnic-ers into the water.

We are all back home now, and Katheryn and I are getting ready for our last sale of the year before our return to Asia. For those of you who can make it, we are in the Elk’s Hall in Duncan, and because it is our last sale, everything is 50% off! Hope to see you there.set:72157607454397072