THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, November 19, 1995 TAG: 9511210466
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY STEPHEN HARRIMAN, TRAVEL EDITOR
LENGTH: Long : 259 lines
OVER THERE on the Asian mainland, 100 miles or so beyond the horizon, probably about five minutes away by ballistic missile, there are something like 1 1/2 billion people who do not like what is happening here where I am.
And since these feelings have been fermenting since 1949, they have had time to get really worked up about it. Over there it's government policy. And when the government is totalitarian, what the government thinks is what everybody thinks.
Paradoxically, those people over there are people just like the 21 million who live on this island, ethnically if not ideologically. Both are Chinese.
I am in Taipei, the mercantilism-run-amok center of the capitalist and more or less democratic Republic of China, sometimes called Nationalist China, and known to generations of American shoppers as the Republic of Made in Taiwan.
Over there on the mainland is the Marxist People's Republic of China, popularly called Communist China or Red China, home of the modern Mao Tse-tung Dynasty, known to a world of television viewers since 1989 as the strong-arm nation centered on Tiananmen Square.
They are not the same, not by a long shot.
Two Chinese factions got into a big philosophical argument during which much blood was spilled after World War II, and those who wanted to get a life over which they, and not the state, had some control fled behind Generalissmo Chiang Kai-shek to this island then commonly called Formosa.
There's been tension ever since.
The situation today: The People's Republic of China is a member of the United Nations; the Republic of China was ousted in 1971. The United States distanced itself from Taiwan during the Carter Administration, closing its embassy in Taipei. The Head Red had threatened to arrange for something like 1 1/2 billion people not to like us. The Big Guys won. Today there are only 12 embassies in Taipei.
Taiwan is little, about the size of Connecticut and New Hampshire combined. Mainland China is big, slightly larger than the contiguous United States - 265 times the size of Taiwan with 55 times as many people. Communist China has more people in military uniform than Taiwan has people.
Red China regards Taiwan as a renegade province and has vowed to invade if the island declares independence. Taiwan must ask rhetorically, independence from what? The Republic of China's view is that it IS China, that Marxism is an anathema, something to endure, a blip in the long sweep of history.
Taiwan, however, has prudently refrained from posturing to the extreme and blurting out something like, ``Over my dead body.''
What's wrong with this picture? Everything and nothing, it would seem. It is as if two scenes are being acted out simultaneously on a world stage.
In one scene, a somewhat disconcerting one, Taiwan is a diplomatic orphan, a political idealist (not to say dreamer). In the second, acted out as if the other was not occurring, Taiwan is an economic giant, a swarming human beehive of productivity and prosperity. The free world wrings its hands at the first while applauding the second.
And people the world over continue to beat a path to this nation-almost-without-portfolio. They come to take care of business, for one thing. While the United States no longer has an embassy, it does maintain what we shall euphemistically call ``economic interests'' here. So do a lot of other nations.
Taipei is said to be Asia's fastest-growing city.
These Taiwanese are so busy manufacturing, building, selling, trading, shipping, making money, that they just don't seem to have time to be apprehensive. It just doesn't seem to MATTER . . . unless it affects business.
They do not seem to see the dark cloud over the horizon. It hasn't really rained on their merry parade, in a long time - although the Communist Chinese did ``rain'' some missiles out over the Strait of Taiwan a few months ago, just practicing, of course.
Not to worry. No need for CNN to fly Christiane Amanpour and her flak jacket in here. Nobody seems concerned. The only thing I see that could pass for an air-raid shelter is a tri-level sub-basement in the Grand Formosa Regent Hotel. They have it camouflaged to look exactly like a superboutique with signs that say Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Cartier, Ferragamo and Hermes.
I feel as safe here as I felt in Croatia or in Israel's occupied West Bank two weeks after the Hebron massacre. Travel is a calculated risk. But so is going to work. People in New York's World Trade Center, people who live in Oklahoma City, could tell you that.
Taiwan, which sits in a huge bowl surrounded by mountains, is like almost any metropolis in the world today - pretty terrible traffic despite broad thoroughfares, smog, a crowded mixture of old and modern architecture, wonderful hotels, somber factories, a few attractive major buildings and a lot of ugly ones, a hodge-podge of homes and shops, ancient shrines and temples, beautiful parks and monuments and some not very nice areas.
There's also a Snake Market, where, for $5 a glass, you can drink cobra blood and bile. If you're really thirsty. A friend claims it's no more repulsive that a hot dog and suggests I read the label on a package sometime.
I have come here, not for economic reasons, but as a tourist, to get a cram course in international political science (which I hope I have covered), to embrace the essence of Chinese history, culture, religion and food . . . and perhaps to make a brief study of the flora, fauna and geothermal activity of this island.
I have two days. Better get cracking.
First stop: the National Palace Museum. If there is time for only one thing in Taiwan, this is the place. Whatever time you allot, it will not be enough.
One of the planet's premier museums, it houses the world's largest collection of priceless Chinese art treasures, spanning almost 5,000 years of history. Many of the nearly 700,000 pieces - porcelain, calligraphy and painting, jade, lacquer and enamel wares, embroidery and tapestry, rare books, ritual bronzes, curio cabinets - in its cavernous halls and huge underground storage areas came from the Chinese imperial collection, begun more than 1,000 years ago.
The sprawling yellow brick complex with glazed tile roofs and moon gates - very institutional and meant to be PERMANENT - has space to exhibit 15,000 pieces, and it changes its regular exhibits once every three months. At that rate it would take more than 10 years to view all the items.
The museum was established in 1925, the year after Henry Pu Yi, the ``last emperor'' (maybe you saw the movie), was kicked out of the Forbidden City imperial palace in Peking (now Beijing). The exotic loot of a thousand years of various dynasties became the common inheritance of all Chinese.
The story of how it got across the Straits of Taiwan and to a Taipei suburb reads like the script of ``Raiders of the Lost Ark.''
Because of upheavals on the mainland in subsequent years (the War of Resistance against Japan, the Communist takeover), the collection was carted over mountains, across deep rivers and up and down the country's rugged roads, trundled more than 6,000 miles, through 23 cities and towns, over 32 years from the day it first left the Forbidden City in 1933. Incredibly, not a single piece had been damaged during the ordeal.
Oddly, the museum is not immune to harsh criticism, right here on Taiwanese soil. I read an editorial in the ``Free China Review'' which called the museum ``dilettantish, a place to show off, not inform. It is full of displays, not exhibits.''
The editorial, urging a more user-friendly approach, complains that ``we learn next to nothing about how these items were used or the historical, religious and mythological tradition behind their designs. . . . The museum is a frustrating experience for the curious, for the scholar, for the parents of a questioning child.''
Maybe. But every one of the thousands of visitors I saw seemed enthralled. I thought it was awesome, almost overpowering.
One of Taipei's finest examples of both temple design and Chinese religious tolerance is the Lung-shan Temple. Stone columns seem to come alive with historical figures dancing on the backs of dragons, and the roof is adorned with more cavorting creatures.
The host diety is Kuan-yin, Goddess of Mercy. This temple was destroyed by Allied bombing during World War II when Taiwan was Japanese-occupied, but the camphor wood image of the Buddhist goddess remained unscathed. The faithful take this ``miracle'' as a sign of the diety's power.
Outside, old men hold animated political discussions. Inside, amid lots of swirling smoke of incense, some people, mostly tourists, mill about or listen to guides, while others, mostly locals, are engaged in various stages of communion with various sorts of gods at altars piled with offerings that range from flowers to fruit to asparagus juice in tetrapak cartons.
The laissez-faire nature of Chinese religious practice - Buddhist, Taoist, folk and other dieties worshiped side-by-side - is nowhere more apparent than here. Some people refer to Lung-shan Temple as a ``meeting place of gods.'' More than 100 dieties are worshiped here - sort of a one-stop shopping place for the higher power of your choice.
Twiwan's devotion to the late Chiang Kai-shek is expressed in the CKS Memorial Hall. It is enormous, majestic, awesome. A temple in its own right.
The 250-foot-high edifice with a blue double roof styled after the Altar of Heaven in Beijing and a white marble body resembling an Egyptian pyramid towers over a 62-acre complex.
A 25-ton bronze statue of the late generalissimo-president sits - like Abraham Lincoln in his Washington memorial - in the main hall looking out over gardens and ponds and a massive esplanade flanked by the National Theater and the National Concert Hall, both built in traditional Chinese palace style.
A military honor guard keeps a permanent vigil. Every hour there is an impressive, robotic changing-of-the-guard ceremony, much like that which takes place at the Tomb of the Unknowns at Arlington.
Except this is not a tomb. Chiang is not buried here. His body is sort of in storage, waiting for the day when it can be returned for proper burial on the mainland.
His dream, the Taiwanese dream of a free Chinese people, endures.
I have no idea what day it is - haven't ever since I crossed the international date line - and it doesn't really matter because according to the Chinese calendar it's not even 1995.
Must be the weekend, though, because there are thousands, maybe millions, of Taiwanese, driving in bumper-to-bumper traffic (or walking almost as rapidly) up this narrow, winding mountain road toward Yangmingshan National Park. A nature pilgrimage.
Just a few miles north of Taipei, this mountainous reserve boasts lush vegetation, waterfalls, volcanic craters, hot springs and stinking jets of sulphur fumes, terraced rice patties and wonderful vistas.
I saw pictures of it all, and it seems very nice - a wonderful escape from downtown Taipei - but on this day the fog hangs heavy over the mountains and the rain varies between drizzling and pouring. It is impossible to see anything.
The Taiwanese come anyway. We go back to the city, more than a little disappointed, knowing there's much more to this island than its urban centers. If only one had more time.
Chinese food does not sit well with me, I'm afraid, so I will not attempt to critique it.
I am trying to be a good sport about it, this night at the Peking Duck Restaurant, sampling a little bit of ALMOST everything because my host, C.K. Lee of the Taiwan Board of Tourism, says that Taipei is the second-best place in the whole world for Chinese food and this is one of his favorite places.
New York, he allows, is tops for Chinese food.
Our dinner would feature - I'll bet you guessed - Peking duck. And it was to include, I think, 20 courses. Maybe 21. I took notes, sort of. I wanted to see how many things I could associated with one of MY five basic food groups, which are: grits, collards, biscuits, steak and strawberry shortcake.
My after-action notes indicate this gastronomical adventure, served on a revolving table, included, in order:
Assorted hors d'ouevres, enormous pig knuckles, drunken chicken (saturated in some sort of alcohol), Mandarin duck shrimp, shark fin soup (slimy), frog legs (and other parts, I'm certain), crab legs, a fish head big enough to serve 10 people, smelly bean curd (that's really what it's called, and it really is smelly), Peking duck (the piece de resistance), some kind of green vegetable in oyster juice, bamboo shoot soup with smoky chicken and pork and noodles (delicious), green vegetable dumplings, leftover Peking duck carcass shop (also delicious), drunken crab (see drunken chicken) - my notes at this point say, ``I'm losing it,'' referring to my concentration, not my dinner, so bear with me - something that appears to be dates along with some white things in warm water, Sunkist orange slices (from California), a dessert that I believe was date jam wrapped in a thin pancake. And tea, of course. There may have been another soup in there somewhere.
May I please be excused? ILLUSTRATION: Color photo
STEPHEN HARRIMAN
Offerings fill an altar at the remarkable Lung-shan Temple in
Taipei.
Map
VP
Graphic
TRAVELER'S ADVISORY
Getting there: I flew China Airlines, which has three flights a
week from/to New York (JFK), via Anchorage. Flight time is 7 hours
to Anchorage, an hour-and-a-half layover for refueling, then another
10 hours to Taipei. It's the fastest way there. China Airlines also
has daily flights to Taipei from Los Angeles and San Francisco.
China Airlines has ticket agreements with all major U.S. carriers to
transport passengers to CAL gateways at no extra charge.
EVA Airways, Singapore Airlines and Malaysian Airlines have
non-stop service from the West Coast. Delta plans to suspend service
to Taipei in December, failing to gain a market share against more
aggressive Asian carriers. Northwest and United recently reduced
service. On such a long flight, Business Class is worth the extra
cost.
Getting around: Traffic is extremely congested. Avoid driving
yourself if possible. Cabs are plentiful and not particularly
expensive; almost none of the drivers speaks English (much like New
York City).
Accommodations: Taipei has comfortable hotels, regularly
evaluated by the Tourism Bureau, to fit every budget. Rooms at
five-star international hotels average about $200 a night, single;
four-stars average $145, three-stars $95, two-stars $65, and hostels
about $36. I stayed at the Grand Formosa Regent, which should rank
with the superluxury hotels of the world. Most deluxe hotels feature
wheelchair access and elevators, but there is no national policy on
access.
Language 101: The national language is Mandarin Chinese, but most
island residents also speak Taiwanese, the local dialect. Many
people speak and understand some English (the international language
of business and that most studied in Taiwan).
Info: The Taiwan Tourism Bureau publishes (in English) a number
of illustrated pamphlets and maps covering Taipei as well as the
surrounding scenic and wilderness areas. Contact Tourism
Representative, Republic of China, 1 World Trade Center (Suite
7953), New York, N.Y. 10048; phone (212) 466-0691, fax (212)
432-6436.
by CNB