Within Taipei’s Wanhua (Monga) district, a centuries-old celebration lasts annually from November 13th to November 15th (October 20th-22nd in the lunar calendar). The residents celebrate the birthday of the Qingshan King, a local deity responsible for warding off disease and serving justice.

Starting the procession was a speech summarizing the history of the Qingshan King and his role as a god. Lanterns hung on telephone poles as everyone prepared to begin an eight-hour march through all temples. Music was blaring around the festival, and street vendors gathered to sell sausages, corn on the cob, and other snacks.

Preparations for the festival on Guiyang Street

As the festivals began, multiple people followed the Qingshan King’s journey through the streets of Wanhua District. Guarding him are the Eight Generals (八家將) of the underworld. Sporting fangs and facepaint, these bodyguards ward off ghosts and evil spirits to keep the Qingshan king safe. Little yellow pieces of paper dangle off the back of their hats that people can pick up if they fall off. Some even use tigers to force mischievous kids to behave.

Some of the Eight Generals

In addition to the Eight Generals, devotees to the king lit multiple firecrackers to ward off more evil spirits. These firecrackers commonly light up in areas known for incidents such as car accidents or crimes. Be sure to cover your ears and nose when the firecrackers are lit because the explosions result in thunderous noises and heavy smoke.

Smoke from the fireworks

After some time, trucks drove with the procession handing out traditional bread rolls called kompia (光餅). These pieces of bread look similar to bagels but are much smaller. After taking the kompia, I went into the main Qingshan Temple, where I lit 5 sticks of incense, hoped for good fortune, prayed, and placed one stick in a bowl. Nearby were smaller temples filled with offerings from followers and statues of the Qingshan King and other gods.

A piece of Kompia

A bowl of burnt incense sticks

A smaller temple dedicated to the Qingshan King.

Finally, I looped around the temple holding the other incense sticks and went into another room where a statue of the Qingshan king surrounded other gods and figures from Buddhist and Daoist lore. After placing the rest of the sticks inside another bowl, I washed my hands and left. When I left, the festival continued for hours, the convoy passing each temple until nightfall. To get a glimpse of the entire festival, here is a video from last year

The temple room where the Qingshan King surrounds other deities and figures.

Messages encouraging people to contribute to the Qingshan festival

Although most of the population of Taiwan speaks Mandarin, this was not always the case. For millennia, the indigenous Taiwanese people (Bunun, Amis, Paiwan, etc.) spoke their own Austronesian languages. Aside from the indigenous presence, most of the ethnic Chinese population in Taiwan can trace their lineage to the southern Fujian Province around the city of Xiamen in Mainland China. Within Fujian Province, the local dialect was Hokkien (閩南話), and thus was the dialect spoken by the majority of Chinese settlers in Taiwan. However, after centuries of colonialism and separation from the mainland, Hokkien in Taiwan evolved into its own separate dialect. I will briefly outline the basics of Taiwanese Hokkien and teach some vocabulary.

Despite its status as a dialect of the Chinese language, most government sources refer to Taiwanese Hokkien as 台語 (Tái​yǔ​/TâiGí) or Taiwanese language. It shares little to no mutual intelligibility with Mandarin and even other Hokkien dialects, such as Teochew. Due to the Japanese colonization of Taiwan that lasted from 1895 to 1945, Taiwanese Hokkien adopted some Japanese loanwords such as 巧克力 (chio͘-kó͘-lè-tò͘) and 病院 (Pīng Iān/Hospital).

Two romanization systems exist for the Taiwanese Hokkien dialect: one is called Pe̍h-ōe-jī (白話字) the other is 台羅 (Tâi-lô). Pe̍h-ōe-jī originated from the teachings of Western missionaries. It became prevalent in texts such as Bible translations, textbooks, newspapers, and other materials until its suppression by the Japanese colonial authorities and later the Kuomintang authorities. Later in 2006, the Taiwanese Ministry of Education introduced Tâi-lô as the definitive romanization system to be taught in schools. While the two are mostly identical, the latter system changes some transliterations of sounds.

A handout showing both Pe̍h-ōe-jī and Tâi-lô transliterations

The vowels of Taiwanese are a, i, u, e, o, and oo. Although most resemble English vowels, their pronunciation couldn’t be more distinct. I is pronounced like e, e sounds more like “eh,” o sounds like “ugh,” and oo sounds like o. Furthermore, the consonants b and p are pronounced similarly. The difference is that b is voiced (vibration) while p is voiceless (no vibration). K and g possess similar features of sound. Regarding pronunciation, Taiwanese Hokkien has eight tones; Mandarin, in comparison, only has half that. Finally, Taiwanese speech involves various tone changes in contrast to the three tone changes in Mandarin.

Some vocabulary in Taiwanese Hokkien vs. Mandarin:

Sofa:

膨椅 (phòng-í) / 沙發 (shā​fā)

Good morning:

𠢕早 (gâu-chá)/ 早安 (zǎo​’ān)

We/our/us

咱(lán)/ 我們 (wǒ​men)

You (plural)

恁 (lín)/ 你們 (nǐ​men​)

Hello

汝好 (lú hó)/ 你好 (nǐ​hǎo)

Sorry

歹勢 (pháinn-sè) / 對不起 (duì​bu​qǐ)

“Where is the bathroom/toilet?” in Taiwanese Hokkien vs. Mandarin

廁所在哪裡 (cè suŏ zài nă lĭ?)

便所佇佗位 (Piān-sóo tī tó-uī)

Some more videos on Taiwanese Hokkien

While rain canceled much of the festivities, not everything must be scary. This Halloween, I decided to join a traditional dance class sponsored by the Lanyang Cultural Center. Going down the stairs, we all exchanged shoes and sandals for slippers. After some quick introductions, we all went barefoot while entering the dance studio.

The entrance to the studio from the outside.

The first lesson started off dynamically; both teachers demonstrated a complex routine of lunges, turns, hand chops, kicks, and bends. These moves took inspiration from various martial arts and folk dances originating in both Mainland China and Taiwan (武功and 民間). While everyone in the group tried their best, mastering the choreography required frequent practice that we did not possess. Every move required precise timing where even a second-long delay affects the flow of the performance.

Our group practicing the sweeping flag (順風旗) move

After that, our next lesson involved handling the iron fan (鐵扇). Although martial artists used these fans as weapons long ago, the fans used in modern opera performances are made out of cloth. We learned how to open the fan, wave it around, and even twirl it properly. All movements of the fan needed precision to express action. Our teachers ensured that we knew when it was the right time to open and close our fans.

Manipulating the stick cymbal (連廂) served as the highlight of the lesson. We practiced throwing them over to our partners, crossing them over our shoulders, twirling them, and kicking while holding them simultaneously. Although holding the cymbals initially appeared simple, performing these movements in rapid succession demanded consistent flexibility. Therefore, constantly focusing simultaneously on the cymbal and the body aids in balance.

Concluding the lesson was a brief lecture on the history of Taiwanese opera and folk dances. Our teachers emphasized the differences between Mainland Chinese and Taiwanese folk dances regarding ethnic diversity. China’s population comprises 56 recognized ethnic groups with varying cultural traditions, while Taiwan has 16 recognized indigenous groups (along with the Han Chinese). Therefore, folk customs naturally vary depending on the people performing. No matter the difference, a rich history lies behind the workings of an opera.

An example of Taiwanese opera

Despite the rain yesterday, I embarked on a CLD-sponsored nine-hour excursion to the Shangri-La farm in Yilan County. After arriving at the main entrance of NTU, everyone entered four separate buses (I was in bus B), received their laminated name tags, and fastened their seatbelts. We all waved goodbye to Taipei and awaited a picturesque experience in Yilan.

A view of Yilan City from a high point in Shangri-La

The tour guide first asked us if we spoke any Taiyu (Taiwanese Hoklo) at all; none of us did, so he gave us some basic lessons in reading Taiyu proverbs posted on the bulletin board. Afterward, we moved on to the cinnamon tree, where each of us ate a leaf. While the leaves tasted good on their own, I prefer cinnamon either as part of a seasoning or part of a tea. Later, we saw a family of pigs consisting of five mini-pigs and three full-sized pigs. The tour guide explained that the largest pig was the mother while the second-largest was the big sister.

The proverbs our tour guide showed us.

Partial view of a Chinese cinnamon tree

Two mini-pigs and two full-size pigs.

After a quick group photo, we all moved up to the main farm, where we witnessed the growth of a wide range of fruits and vegetables. The tour guide let us taste basil, kumquats, starfruit, dragonfruit, and olives. While we ate, he explained the process of growing each plant and its uses. For example, the olives could be eaten but were not meant for use in olive oil. We walked around eating whatever edible thing we could find. If it was not edible, everyone simply smelled it.

A growing vine of basil

A ripening branch of olives- not for olive oil

A kumquat branch

A starfruit tree

Seeking shelter from the rain, we moved inside to a cafeteria-like house where we made douhua (豆花), a pudding made of soft tofu sweetened with syrup. We also made a Taiwanese children’s toy called a “trumpet spinner.” It is basically a cylinder made out of two pieces of paper with a hole in the middle. One end of a string enters the hole while another is tied to a stick. If done correctly, spinning the toy will make a noise that resembles a trumpet.

My personal trumpet spinner

At twelve o’clock, we all climbed up the stairs to a banquet room, where we all had lunch. All sorts of authentic Taiwanese and Chinese foods were served, from drunken chicken and egg pancakes to meatballs with bok choy and fried sweet potato rolls. Once lunch was over, we all encountered two meerkats standing up, running around, and just being cute. I especially love it when they stand up and look at us.

The beginning of a hearty and delicious lunch.

Two meerkats are about to stand up.

Once our stomachs filled up, we returned to the room where we constructed our trumpet spinners. Then, we started to paint a tote bag only using scissors, leaves, newspapers, and various paint colors. Everyone contributed their own creative designs ranging from fish to Chinese characters. The real challenge with using plants as paintbrushes comes from cutting out all unnecessary parts. As all of us finished our paintings, we ate our homemade douhua with some Taiwanese tea. Finally, the day ended with a traditional spin top competition. To play this game, you take a sizeable acorn-shaped spinning top, tie it around with a rope, throw it, and hope it lands bottoms up. In a way, it is similar to spinning a dreidel or a Beyblade.

Part of the spin top competition

Overall, I am glad I experienced a rural slice of Taiwan. Eating fruits and vegetables straight from a tree rather than a store reminds me of simpler times picking oranges from a backyard fruit tree. It is an enlightening experience to observe how food comes from farm to table as well. Finally, getting away from the congestion of Taipei brought variety to an otherwise boring Friday. In short, the trip is worth paying 500 NTD.

One month ago, I attempted to visit the Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall after I got out of quarantine. However, ongoing construction prevented me from going any further than Zhongshan Park. Today is a different story; while construction remained for areas like the fountain, the Memorial Hall itself was accessible. After going in, I encountered some eye-opening history.

Each object in the Western Exhibition Hall conveys some connection between Taiwanese society and Sun’s political ideals. His Three Principles of the people consist of livelihood, democracy, and nationhood (民生, 民權, 民族). One example of how Taiwan abides by Sun’s principles takes the form of an EasyCard The EasyCard can be used anywhere from YouBikes to the MRT. Because this one card works for many aspects of transportation and daily life, it is an object that evokes the freedom of movement.

Part of the EasyCard section of the exhibit

Although Sun Yat-sen’s legacy as the founding father of modern China stays undisputed, the exhibition mainly focuses on how he inspired the Taiwanese people to achieve self-determination. His mark remains today as Taiwan’s calendar starts at the Republic of China’s establishment (2022 is Year 111, Gregorian calender year subtracted by 1911). As for Taiwanese history, the Taiwanese Cultural Association formed in the 1920s under Japanese colonial rule. It advocated for greater political autonomy along with the cultural revitalization of the Chinese population in Taiwan. Additionally, its flag took much inspiration from the Republic of China, with three stars representing economic freedom, political freedom, and democratic reform.

The flag and anthem of the TCA

Moving to the Eastern Exhibition Hall, I learned numerous interesting facts about Sun’s life. Born in 1866, he and his family moved to Honolulu, Hawaii when he was 14 years old. During this time, Hawaii was still an independent kingdom but maintained close ties with Britain and the United States. While in Honolulu, Sun studied subjects such as English, Christianity, science, and British history. His time in Hawaii exposed him to technology and philosophy not seen in China before. Furthermore, he traveled around the world from the US to Thailand to gain support from overseas Chinese communities. His time abroad widened his perspective on the world, contributing to his future ideology.

A painting representing Sun’s journey to Honolulu.

Currency ranging from American and British to Vietnamese and Indonesian representing Sun’s travels.

Overall, I not only acquired knowledge about Taiwanese history but also Chinese history as a whole. Even though they are from different periods, I can see why Sun Yat-sen is considered the Chinese Abraham Lincoln. Both saw injustices with their own eyes before becoming leaders (slavery and national humiliation, respectively). They also fought mercilessly to keep their respective nations united against tyranny and oppression. Finally, Sun and Lincoln strived to guarantee popular sovereignty and government for the people.

Stamps commemorating Sun and Lincoln

Original copies of Sun’s Three Principles of the People

Three days ago, on October 1st, my Taiwanese History and Culture class went on a field trip to Jing-Mei White Terror Memorial Park. To give some context, this museum site was a former military prison during Taiwan’s martial law under the Kuomintang government (1949-1987). Various political prisoners, from dissidents to falsely accused “terrorists,” were jailed and executed there.

The former Ren Ai building was where political prisoners were held. (Credit to Reke on Wikipedia).

After my class and I watched a video presentation summarizing the history of the Jing-Mei prison, we split off into two groups. My group’s tour guide, a 72-year-old Malaysian Taiwanese man named Fred Chin, survived twelve years of show trials, torture, and hardship after being falsely accused of plotting against the KMT as a student. He recalled the stories of his arrest, torture, false confession, and hopelessness in meticulous detail. He even showed us the courtrooms where the kangaroo courts took place and the cramped jail cells where six people shared a room.

Part of the crowded jail cell, similar to the one Fred was imprisoned in.

Before experiencing the entire tour, Fred guided us to a sign that read “公正廉明” (Gong Zheng Lian Ming). A rough English translation means “Justice and Transparency.” As this was the KMT motto during the Martial Law period, Fred let us ponder a bit for the irony to sink in. After the tour, Fred told us that he was left homeless with no visa and no ID because the KMT thought he “knew too much about Taiwan.” After years of wandering and eating food scraps from restaurants, he found a loving wife who cared for him while he got back on his feet. Now, Fred devotes his life to educating the younger generation about the struggle for democracy in Taiwan.

The ironic sign that political prisoners saw every day.

Finally, Fred reflected on Nancy Pelosi’s August visit; when she visited Jing-Mei, Fred ensured that she became informed about Taiwan’s dark past. He then praised Pelosi for her dedication to defending Taiwan while encouraging us to stand up for human rights and pursue freedom. It was inspiring to us because until we came to Taiwan, not many of us thought that we could make much of a difference when it came to history.

Fred and I having our picture taken. A wholesome memory for the both of us.

Overall, while I knew some information about the KMT’s authoritarian rule, Fred’s vivid memory opened my eyes to the harsh conditions that persisted throughout Taiwan until relatively recently. The field class taught me that achieving a goal requires sacrifice, bravery, and persistence.

If you want to know more about Fred’s story, buy his book (only available in Taiwan).

This morning, I did my usual routine of having breakfast, calling an Uber, and waiting. A couple minutes later, the Uber parked outside my door; the driver asked me in Mandarin if my destination was correct. I replied affirmatively, as usual. Little did I know that this ride hosted an opportunity that benefitted both of us.

Soon after, my driver started speaking to me in English. I then answered his questions in Chinese, and he mostly understood me. We talked about many topics ranging from why I am in Taiwan and what I like about Taiwan to the complexity of Chinese characters and how well I spoke Mandarin. Eventually, we both spoke a mix of Mandarin and English to hone our respective language skills until I finally arrived at the NTU entrance.

The most surprising part of this journey was that he never traveled abroad before. He mainly learns English by listening to rock music like Guns N’ Roses, AC/DC, and Nirvana. Whenever he hears a word he does not know, he looks it up in the dictionary to find its meaning. Although he does not take any classes, his learning style reflects mine in a way. Whenever I hear something in Mandarin that is new to me, I look it up to see what it means. Overall, the trip turned out to be a literal learning experience for the both of us.

Since the Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall is under construction until September 30th, I personally decided to tour the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall. Exiting my Uber, I walked into the Xinyi Road entrance, where a giant, white building with tall staircases greeted me. Up ahead, I noticed a small door that led to the museum entrance. Entering the first floor, I took my temperature and began my adventure.

The Memorial Hall from the outside (Credit to AngMoKio on Wikipedia)

After taking a left into the museum, take another left and climb up the stairs into the Permanent Exhibition. Here, you will see exhibitions dedicated to various aspects of Chiang Kai-shek’s life. Everything from his uniforms, books, and cars to the food he eats is on display. Another left turn guides you into a recreation of Chiang’s office down to a wax figure of the man himself.

Even though it is only a wax figure, the atmosphere evokes the image of meeting a famous leader.

A display of accurate models showing Chiang Kai-shek’s favorite foods.

To the right of the Chiang exhibit within the Permanent Exhibition room lies the Spirit of Freedom vs. Autocracy showcase (the “English translation” says “Taiwan’s long walk to Freedom of Speech,” but the Chinese is “自由靈魂 vs. 獨裁者”). Numerous books, videos, pictures, and newspaper articles highlight Taiwan’s struggle toward a democratic society from World War II and martial law to the present day. Some exhibits even deal with the fight for Taiwan’s freedom abroad in the face of cross-strait controversies. One such example deals with Tzuyu of the South Korean girl group, Twice. In 2015, she declared on Korean television that she was Taiwanese and waved the Taiwanese flag with the South Korean one. After backlash from many Mainland Chinese netizens, Tzuyu’s apology expressed that Taiwan belongs to China. An extract of a JoongAng Daily article about the issue is hung on the exhibition as another reminder of the Taiwanese struggle.

The banner advertising Taiwan’s freedom exhibit.

The JoongAng Daily Article about the Tzuyu controversy.

While all these exhibits show eye-opening and riveting history, the main attraction awaits on the fourth floor. A quarter before every hour, the famed Changing of the Guard ceremony occurs under the towering bronze statue of Chiang Kai-shek. Today, I observed the honor guard of the Taiwanese Navy perform, but honor guards from different branches participate too (Navy wears white, Air Force wears blue,  and Army wears gray). During the Changing of the Guard, the honor guard moves slowly and precisely, literally taking one step at a time. As the two guards change shifts, the replacements and the honor guard commander arrive with equal formality. After some orders from the commander and the raising of rifles, the replacement guards gradually take positions. Although the weather was hot and humid, the calmness and rigidity of these soldiers captivated me because they otherwise stood in the same spot for almost an hour. The honor guard overall symbolizes the will and determination of Taiwanese people in the face of hardship. Chiang Kai-shek represents the founding of modern Taiwan and its turbulent history as well.

The bronze statue of Chiang looks over looming crowds of tourists.

The replacement honor guards and their commander.

Today, the Mid-Autumn Festival roars throughout Taiwan as banks, stores, and restaurants close for travel and family gatherings. Although the hustle and bustle of Taipei definitely slowed down, that does not mean I need to travel far to enjoy new experiences. Sometimes, hidden gems are right around the corner, waiting to be explored. For lunch, I discovered an authentic taste behind an unassuming facade.

Exiting my apartment, I made a right turn and kept walking until I stumbled upon a place called 春水堂 ( Chun Shui Tang/Spring Water Hall). I heard that this eatery is a famous chain business in Taiwan. However, do not let the ordinary-sounding name and franchise atmosphere fool you; this restaurant attracts patrons with one simple item: boba tea.

Sign of Chun Shui Tang- a classic aesthetic grabs the attention of prospective customers.

In fact, Chun Shui Tang gained its nationwide reputation as one potential birthplace of boba tea. For a brief history, Lin Hsiu Hui (林秀慧), an employee at the restaurant, mixed tapioca balls into a cup of milk tea during a meeting in 1988. Other employees tasted the concoction, and it propelled into tremendous success. While a competing tea shop called Hanlin Tea Room also claims it invented boba two years before, no one truly knows who first thought of the concept of mixing tapioca balls with milk tea.

Chun Shui Tang knows why its customers are here.

Entering the restaurant, a waiter first sprayed sanitizer on my hands to reduce germs. Then, he escorted me to a table and handed me a menu. Unlike boba shops in the United States, Chun Shui Tang gives customers a menu and a pen to select what they want to order. Once a customer finishes deciding what they want, they hand the menu over to the cashier and pay the total (a word of warning: do not pay the tip on the receipt unless the service is incredibly excellent; tip culture is almost non-existent in Taiwan). I, of course, chose a small pearl milk tea with ice and 30% sugar. Aside from drinks, Chun Shui Tang also serves various authentic Taiwanese dishes. I ordered a bowl of Kung-Fu Noodles (Kung-Fu noodles consist of wheat noodles with beef pieces, soybeans, and bok choy in a broth).

Brief looks at the menu in Chun Shui Tang.

Drinking the boba tea, it did not taste overly sweet in contrast to similar products in America (though that may be due to the 30% sugar option). A harmonious mixture of tapioca, milk, and tea combined into a straw provides much-needed refreshment from Taipei’s humid weather. Even though I selected the small option, the employees knew that boba tea was unsuitable for a tiny plastic cup.

A modern variant of the original boba recipe.

Eating the Kung-Fu noodles, the difference between authentic Taiwanese food and American Chinese food became night and day. For starters, the noodles are cooked in broth with just the right amount of salt. Americanized chow mein, on the other hand, is loaded with sodium-filled soy sauce. Secondly, Chun Shui Tang’s Kung Fu Noodles possesses a perfect balance of meat, vegetables, and noodles. The average chow mein in an American Chinese restaurant tends to heavily emphasize noodles over beef and vegetables. Finally, the Kung Fu noodles lack much, if any, sweetness at all.

A dish of Kung-Fu Noodles in all its glory. While it can not make you a fighter, the flavors blend into a filling combination.

In conclusion, I recommend Chun Shui Tang as a starting point for Taiwanese cuisine. Its easygoing atmosphere encourages you to carefully think about your order, with so much variety in choices. Besides eating real Taiwanese food, you catch a glimpse of fascinating history as you sip on a delicious glass of boba tea.