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June 19, 2001
The Day We Were Mostly Confused and Aimless
Today we were supposed to go to
Tai An. I'm not really sure where that is, but it's somewhere in the country,
has hot springs, and it was not our destiny to go there. The trip being vetoed,
as best I can tell, because entry could only be gained across a long, narrow
wooden suspension bridge. This was unacceptable to my mother-in-law.
Instead, she proposed that we go
to Taichung, a nearby city, and spend the night at a (currently unoccupied)
family-owned home.
While I've been to Taichung (on
my way to other places) on a few occasions, and I've nothing against it, this
was totally unacceptable to me. I had reached the "woods" for a much-needed
three-day break from the city, and I was not willing return to the urban jungle
early.
I was aware that there was some
much greater conflict going on, but it was beyond my linguistic ability to pick
up what it was and if they weren't going to clue me in, I was going to stick to
my guns and try to look like I was happy and excited about the prospect of
being in the mountains and not look like I was trying to "dig in" just to be
stubborn. (Both were true, but I just honestly couldn't think of one single
solitary reason why going to Taichung would be fun or interesting.)
I was missing my Lonely Planet
Guide on Taiwan by now (having not brought it this trip to save luggage space
and figuring that I'd need the Lonely Planet Japan much more.) Without an
English-language reference to the places in Taiwan, I could neither look up
interesting sites around Taichung, nor propose an alternate place to visit.
 With Chu-Wan's mom unwilling to push on to
Tai An and I unwilling to return to civilization, it was decided (without
further input on my part) that we'd stay put for another night.
Chu-Wan asked at the front desk
if our cabin was available for another night: it wasn't. Apparently, we'd have
to move to another cabin or rooms if we wanted to stay. Things were looking up!
I certainly didn't mind staying in the area another night, there were trails to
hike and things yet to see, but I hadn't relished the idea of staying in the
cabin of a thousand ants again. Moving to another cabin would probably resolve
that and so I was much pleased.
As we'd have to change rooms at
or about check-out time, Chu-Wan and I headed out to see out a few of the
nearby places of interest.
First, there was a nearby wooded
valley that attracted thousands of butterflies. Apparently, Taiwan was once a
major butterfly exporter, and although many of them were hunted to decreased
numbers, they showed no sign of being scarce this morning.
 We then headed down a nearby trail which
led to the "sacred tree". To get there we had to cross the sacred bridge, which
turned out to be closed, apparently it too had suffered earthquake damage and
was unsafe. We turned around and headed back. The area was terraced, which
meant that, if you wanted to, you could walk off the trail in either direction.
Since terracing usually indicates some form of gardening or farming, I didn't
feel too comfortable walking off the path.
On one of the terraces, in the
distance, was a sign. Clearly a sign was intended for people to read, so we
headed off the trail towards it. When we got there, it was a friendly little
sign, entirely in Chinese, and not the least bit threatening or indicating that
it was a sign saying "stay out."
Chu-Wan translated it as follows:
"Warning. Ahead on this path is a colony of aggressive bees which can be fatal.
Do not proceed further."
Wonderful. The use of red ink on
this sign would have been greatly appreciated. Had I been alone on foot, I'd be
beestung to death by now.
Our next stop was "Jurassic
Park", which was along another short trail. Here, apparently for the benefit of
the kids, were several dinosaur statues standing in the jungle. (Most of them
were largely Cretaceous-era dinosaurs, and probably never at home in the
jungle, but it fits the popular mythos and that's what they were going for.)
Until kids arrived, it gave me to opportunity to play on dinosaur tails and
just generally goof around.
 We returned to the cabin in order to arrange for a new
room when a new twist hit our story: the hotel had no rooms available at all,
due to a tour group arriving soon.
Once again our plans had to
change. This time it was suggested that we go to Sun Moon Lake. I had been
there before, but that was before the devastating 921 Earthquake, which was
centered at Puli, a town near Sun Moon Lake. The area was severely damaged,
with thousands of lives lost. Sun Moon Lake, which was a popular honeymoon
resort, has suffered considerable hardship since then. I admit a certain morbid
curiosity made me want to see how much it had changed. The considerable damage
included the complete destruction of the hotel we stayed in (it fell into the
lake) and several other sites of interest in the area.
It's a fair distance to Sun Moon
Lake as we had to travel back to the western part of the island, then travel
south until we could again head east into the mountains. Our first stop was
Dongshi, for a steak lunch, which was greatly appreciated.
Somewhere near Dongshi are "The
Five Sacred Trees". I've become rather skeptical of sacred trees in Taiwan, as
they seem to be everywhere and I'm really not sure who they're sacred to. I
have a suspicion that "sacred" has been mistranslated for the word
"wooden".
In this case, the Five Sacred
Trees were a collection of five trees (big surprise there!) that had grown
together into one large (sacred) tree sitting on the top of a hill. It's a
mildly interesting sight and, to prove I'd at least been there, I snapped a
photo or two of the trees. While I snapped the last picture, Chu-Wan's father,
who was sitting on a bench talking to Chu-Wan in Chinese said the word
"earthquake" and stopped speaking.
 Since he'd said it in English, I assumed he was talking
to me, but I must have missed the earlier part of the sentence. (After a while,
I tend to tune everyone's conversations out as I cannot understand enough to
make it worthwhile. But since I clearly heard English, I tuned back in, trying
to catch up on the conversation.)
"What earthquake? When?", I said.
"Now", he said.
"What?!"
I felt absolutely nothing, and I
reached over to grab the metal railing around the trees to see if I could feel
anything. Sure enough, there was an oh-so gentle swaying, almost as if we were
at the top of a tall, tall building, swaying in the wind. It was so
insignificant, that there would have been nothing to catch on videotape and I
didn't even bother to try.
When we returned to the car,
Chu-Wan's mother asked if we'd felt the earthquake. It really astonishes me
that they could feel these earthquakes, as I would have, once again, not have
noticed at all if I hadn't been alerted.
Later I discovered that there had
been two small earthquakes, a 4.8 and a 4.9, both centered a bit north of
Taitung, a town quite some way a away on the southeastern coast. We had felt
the second, stronger quake, and apparently missed the smaller quake a half hour
earlier. I believe we were driving at the time. These were yet more separate
quakes from the two last week, which had been on the northeaster coast. Was
there some major geologic event in the offing in southeast Asia? I hoped not.
It rained the entire way from
Taichung to Sun Moon Lake, making it difficult to get pictures from the car,
but as we headed further towards the center of the destruction of two years
ago, it became more and more apparent at how bad the damage had been.
Construction projects abounded, a few destroyed buildings remained partially
standing, but most had been demolished and cleared for new construction.
 I've always been amazed at how the lush
climate causes vegetation to grow everywhere. Considering that many of the
mountains have sides that are between 75 and 95 degree angles, it seems that it
would be impossible for trees to cling on, let alone flourish. But now, in the
distance, I could see mountains that had been totally wiped clean of vegetation
in the earthquake, as if a giant hand had just brushed it all down, leaving
only the barren earth below.
I couldn't help but wonder to
myself, "How many people died as that mountain rained down on them that
morning?" Lives end, but life goes on, and now the barren mountains are
beginning to take on a green hue as vegetation slowly takes hold again –
until next time.
It was still raining when we got
to Sun Moon Lake, but it was beginning to let up. I hopped out of the car to
take pictures of where we had been previously, while the family drove around
the block, stuck on a one-way road.
No sooner where they out of
sight, but an old Chinese woman came up to me and asked me something in
Chinese. I thought she was asking me something about going somewhere. I suppose
a Caucasian, leaping out of a moving car full of Chinese, which promptly drove
off suggested to her that I was hitchhiker getting dropped off. She was moving
in for the kill before the other business people in the area scented blood in
the water.
I don't know why that didn't
occur to me at the time, last time the businesses were rather aggressive –
shouting for us to stop and eat at their restaurants or avail ourselves of
whatever service they were vending. Perhaps it was that I was trying to survey
the places I remembered and was not at all keen to get my camera wet in the
rain, but I just didn't realize (or care) what she was trying to do, nor could
I understand why she was pestering me.
I tried to tell her I didn't
understand her. She got that, but it didn't stop her. Clearly she didn't speak
an English, either. I told her I wasn't interested, but I think she interpreted
that as "her words day0no meaning to me."
Then she started a rather comical
pantomime, making her fingers look like they were walking around, while making
silly "putt putt putt" noises.
I forcefully told her "Don't need
it, thank you" (in Chinese) and she just looked at me like I was a complete
idiot. Looking back, standing there in the rain, looking abandoned, just me and
the camera, she probably really thought I was lost and stupid. Finally she just
shrugged her shoulders and walked off.
I walked down the main street.
Sure enough, no trace remained of our hotel, it was now a patio. Two other
hotels remained standing, then the next building where we'd had dinner at a
restaurant had also collapsed, but was being rebuilt. Next to that, the dock
was gone too, but was now being rebuilt. Looking at the damage that had
obviously been inflicted as sobering, to say the least.
It was decided not to stay on
this side of the lake, and he drove around to the east side, where Mr. Huang
knew some people. Last time we had only visited that side of the lake briefly.
After a little searching, Mr. Huang found an old friend, the woman who had run
the somewhat macabre souvenir store we had stopped in previously.
 She took us to a nearby hotel with the rather poor English name of
the "Full House". It was absolutely beautiful – all wood with patios and
lush trees and somewhat European furnishings. With a little Guanxi
(practice of personal networking in business – I don't know how else to
describe it.) she arranged a $US 60 per night rate for us at the hotel.
The hotel had
been there for 8 years, but no one in the family had known of its existence. It
was quite nice, and I would recommend it to anyone who travels to Sun Moon
Lake. Even without the discount, the rates were quite reasonable.
By now it was
getting close to dark, but Chu-Wan and I walked through the small town,
populated mostly by poorer aboriginals. Reconstruction here has not moved as
fast as other places, and there were still several collapsed buildings
standing. This is the part of the lake where the brightly-lit pagoda had stood
at the end of the pier, both the pagoda and the pier were gone.
 As darkness fnu1' we all had
dinner with Mr. Huang's friends at a local restaurant. Not wanting to embarrass
him by having the picky son-in-law, I made extra effort to eat something of
everything served – which, luckily (or more likely, by design) consisted
of chicken, beef and wild pig dishes: all quite delicious. There was a breaded,
fried fish which tasted good, but there were far too many bones in it
(specifically, all of them were still in it) for me to be very comfortable
eating it. I also ate a soup made with bamboo shoots and flowers. My suspicion
that bamboo shoots would taste like wood were completely wrong, they taste like
lawn clippings. I also could not bring myself to eat from the brimming plate of
crawdads.
During
dinner, the conversation turned to the local situation. Prior to the 921
Earthquake, Sun Moon Lake was Taiwan's #1 tourist destination (at least among
Taiwanese tourists.) It was particularly popular with honeymooners who would
come for a few days, perhaps visit the temple to the marriage god situated on
the tiny island in the lake. (As, in fact, Chu-Wan and I had done on our
honeymoon.)
Immediately
after the quake, people tried to come to see the destruction, but the
government actively discouraged and prevented this as it was unsafe and
hampered the rescue and reconstruction efforts. As Sun Moon Lake got back on
its feet, the people didn't come back. The perception is that it is still
destroyed and so they go elsewhere. Even those people who do come tend to stay
Taichung, and only make a day trip to Sun Moon Lake. It has considerably hurt
the local hotels, and subsequently the restaurants and other businesses.
We returned
to the hotel for the evening, reveling in the accommodations, which were
paradise compared to the last night's empire of the ants.
Our plan for
tomorrow: Chu-Wan and I will get up at 6:00 and take the car to see the sights
in the area before the 8:00AM breakfast provided by the hotel. At last I'm
going to get a chance to really look around the area and get off the pavement.
(On the last trip, I only managed to set foot off the pavement for one
footstep, and that was only in defiant protest.) |
