2007 ° 高雄 . 佛光山   It was still dark at 4.45am. Having woken up partially out of involuntary intent, I made my way out of Pilgrim's Lodge (朝山会馆), ascending the fifty-two steps figuratively transliterated from the Avatamsaka, crossed the Xuan Gate, and watch a few elders workout in slow motion on the open square fronting the Main Hall. The roller shutter remains tight-lipped. The night before, there was a Ullambana rite held in the Hall - in common speak, Ullambana means the Seventh Lunar Month Festival. Unlike popular rituals of heavy incense, fanciful costumed performance, getais and auctions, the Buddhist way of celebrating Ullambana is pretty much the Buddhist way of handling every and any other festival, ritual or ceremony - prayerful music (or chanting if you prefer), slow motion meditation walks, bow-wow number of bows, bows and more bows, and a remarkable absence of smoke, in both literal and metaphoric sense. Or perhaps this is in the tradition of the Chan lineage - clean, spacious, and without ornamentation.

Last Saturday night, I was at Foguangshan, Kaohsiung, largely out of a lack of plan for a short autumn vacation, and pretty much a matter of perfected coincidence, or like how it is often said - when the time ripens. I had applied for leave for the first week of September almost a month ago, but was asked to postpone it for the second week due to work cover arrangement in the office. Sis had applied to Foguangshan's Tsunglin University (literally "Forest College", a Buddhist centre for laypeople but with monastic observance), and was supposed to start her term in late August. But visa issues delayed her schedule by two weeks. It was only three days before we set off that she got the green light. So Zuji.com it was, a pair of tickets on offer it was, and with only two library-loaned books and some scribbled notes off the internet before Saturday's flight, I was off to explore Taiwan for six days - with only the first night itinerary affirmative.

I mean it is easy to plan for Taiwan. There's Taipei city, the spas, the ye-shi every night, Sun-Moon Lake and Alishan; but on the plane, I had no time for Ocean's Thirteen inflight screening. I was checking the maps, cross-checking the place-names, double-checking the transport lines, and realised six days (or actually, five) is just too short a timeframe. So I swept away all the general thrills which I have encountered before in the previous three visits during my NS days, and omitted the not-too-thrilling events from my schedule - shopping, spas - and zeroed in on some must-see keynotes; yet there were still too many to pack.

It was 5.30am. the roller shutter was raised, and more and more pilgrims arrived, slowly. They assembled quietly, put on their robes, and lined up outside the Main Hall. Then the Bhikkhus and Bhikkhunis arrive, one by one, walking slowly as if there's nothing to rush for the rest of the day, and filled up the Hall. It was almost 6am. Then they begin the morning recitations.

What followed was an almost precise art of carrying out the rest of the daily affairs. The crowd breaks up for breakfast, moving line by line into the refectory (of which i joined in the last queue), taking seats quietly in the long tables. The volunteers served food; when everyone is ready a bell tinkles and eating begins. If you need more food you move the bowl slightly outwards; if you are done you stack the bowls and place the chopsticks square to the table and move them out as well. Another bell tinkles and everyone moves out in rows again. some remain in their seats, cautiously completing the meal, up to the last grain.

All these, without a single word spoken.

This contrasts remarkably with the Bhikkhuni who came to pick Sis and myself up from the airport yesterday, who was definitely loquacious, as are all Taiwanese - may I generalise - but just that they are preferentially quiet during meal time, for the simple reason that there's no need to talk when one eat, or to be exact, no need to multi-task, and no reason to. The night before, It is interesting to see a robed master driving the van herself, while managing a conversation with us, delightfully explaining the place with her understanding and experience up till the point of my settling into the Pilgrim's Lodge (or in Buddhist speak they call it 挂单; though not to be confused with the same term used in trading shares).

8am, I was offered the opportunity to scout the mountain with some of the students and two Masters, who both look like they are of my age. A particular Master Miaoxin spared no effort to expound the background, history, structure and meta-structure of the temple grounds, sounding persuasively confident in every detail. The more serious-sounding Master Miaozhuang overheard i am in the architecture field and begin to speak with me - she's architect-trained as well! In fact, she's gone into engineering too, and has given up on the profession after experiencing the predicaments of this line - for instance, the dilemma of biting the hands that feed you, the problem of compromise, and the male-dominance nature of this field. Subsequent to that, she offered some heartfelt advice on egoless design, green architecture, and an understanding of the inter-related, inter-penetrating infinite realm described in the Avatamsaka Sutra. (Incidentally there's an installation in the temple cave itself which uses multiple mirrors, creating infinite reflections often seen in mirror-cladded lift interiors. The effect is used also by Yayoi Kusama in her "Ladder to Heaven" during Singapore Biennale 2006 at Sri Krishnan Temple; ok, ok, it's not so literal.) 12.30pm. Time to bid my Sis farewell. I turned my back on the ladies, packed vegetarian lunch at the lodge, paying-as-I-wished, and headed on to Zuoying high speed railway station for the North-bound bullet to Taoyuan. I'm alone once again. The train moved at close to 300kmh. It flew through a slight drizzle. The rain hits the glass in horizontal streaks.

莺歌 . 台北   I was headed for Yingge 莺歌 actually, which on retrospect could have been located much faster had I alighted at Taipei. Although the highlight would be the touristy old street (Yingge is famed for ceramic works) I did a quick round, took a snap of the walk-in kiln and doubled to the ceramics museum instead, designed by Chien Hsueh-Yi, where modern ceramic works are on show. And as the time is ripe once again, it was a free-admission day.

Having arrived at the huge transport hub of Taipei Main Station, I crossed Zhongxiao west road to ascend an office building to look for a hostel - yes, a hostel, in an office building! Well - that's the bargain you get when doing shoestring. the building has a central atrium void and inward-looking corridors on all four sides; to put it simply - a grey, hollow, and quite oddly designed office building, serving multiple tenants, with very archaic circulation. Room doors line the corridor, and some had signs that say tuition centres, education classes, sales agencies, etc; but not a single soul around when i went up. The place seems to be poorly maintained. The hostel recep is on the 22nd floor; I was told the room will be slightly cheaper because they recently painted the room so there may be some "smell". Then I was told my room is on the 12th floor. I took the office lift; the lift door opens with just one person inside. There were three other floor levels pressed before I came in. At each of these stops, he would pause for a moment as the door opened, before pressing "close". On the last of these three floors, he actually spoke to nobody in the lift lobby before closing the door. I stepped out at 12th, but didn't see any hostel-looking like place on that floor. Then I realise my room is going to be one of these doors lining the corridor. The numbers on the doors are already faded.

Great. I thought. I finally found 1244 (which is beside the escape stairs), and saw that only the metal gate is locked; while the door is ajar. dusty furniture were lying around as if the room is used like a storeroom. I had three keys on my bunch... why? I unlocked the metal gate and went in - took a while to locate the light switches. There were instructions on the wall saying to keep the door open and lock only the gate. Further in, there's a door with a curtain facing the main door. I stepped forward, draw the curtain aside and suddenly saw a dark figure standing right in front of me.

It's me, in the toilet mirror.

I checked the hostel receipt carefully again - room 1244C, not 1244. there are three more doors in this room - I plunged the smaller key into door C, and surprise surprise, it's a cute (as in horrible) little room measuring something like 2.4m x 1.5m? It's late, I wanted to get to Eslite bookshop quickly to get on with my research for the next day's itinerary. So I dropped my things in the tiny room which feels like a prison cell, draw the curtain closed (so people walking by 1244 don't see a mirror in the toilet facing the main door), left this somewhat deserted building (the kind Tsai Mingliang would use for his films) and headed off to City Hall Station.

Late night, I returned from the bookshop with bread from the convenient store as dinner, taking bites in the claustrophobic space a la eating expired pineapples from cans as in Chungking Express. Soon after, I heard someone coming into 1244, entering room A. The drywalls are so poorly insulated, I could hear all the door opening, locking, coughing, showering, and fridge slamming. And because I can hear them so well, we sort of timed our appearance in the common area such that we wouldn't bump into each other. I only manage to catch a glimpse of my neighbour for a second; a young lady, definitely taiwanese, and travelling alone? Scenes of 2046's vibrating drywalls, and Tsai's "I Don't Want To Sleep Alone" flashed across my mind. How quickly feelings switch dimensions, I thought, from the uncanny nerves of a frightful night just moments ago to lust hormones in split seconds. I set my alarm, packed a bit, and drop dead.

(Apparently i forgot about going to Ketagalan Boulevard that night. There was supposed to be a peaceful demonstration by the Reds where they laid out candles to form the character 屁 on the Square.)

法鼓山 . 台北   The next morning I took a Guoguang bus to Fagushan, or Dharma Drum Mountain. This is the Buddhist centre of North Taiwan, and also one of the four keynote temples of the island, designed by Josh Wu (Aura Architects & Associates). Like a Zen temple located on a mountain range, just grey and white, and all green surroundings, and the blue sky. The traditional programming of spaces is not visible in this modern building, although the cognitive associations can still be tracked based on use and circulation. It is Monday, incidentally the birthday of Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha, and also the ordination ceremony for the new monastics of Dharma Drum Mountain that takes place once in a year. I was fortunate to be there at the right time, so I decide to put my scalp under the shaving blade...

... Which didn't quite materialise. There were only five new Bhikkhus but twenty over new Bhikkhunis - one of whom is a Singaporean! The lady seated beside me whispered to her friend "that's my little brother" when one of the names is called. She appears to be wiping tears off her cheeks, but not too long later she's busy taking pictures, like a proud sister attending the graduation ceremony of an honourable fine young man. I roamed around the place, picturing ideas of how contemporary materials can be detailed so elegantly to convey the essence of Asian traditional architecture. I kept staring at the lush green all over. This is the suchness of retreats - but looking at the finishing, I suppose this must be a very expensive Drum to upkeep.

I stayed for lunch. There is vegetarian noodles, beans and stuffings, vegetables, vegetarian pizzas and vegetarian pastry and cakes. the meal was served buffet-style, but everyone still queued and sat in the same orderly, monastic manner. I must say the food tasted exquisitely splendid. It's definitely made quite a bit of those who joined in for lunch that day rethink the environmental impact of the food they eat, by looking deeply into the constituents of what makes good taste.

I went up Taipei 101 to pay damper baby a visit, and did a round around Shin Kong Mitsukoshi to check out the elevated footbridge connections that link up various Xinyi district street blocks with a continuous corridor (designed by Shu Chang). By evening, I was on the train to Yilan. There's a series of old houses readapted into a park connector extending from the Yilan train station, just along the main road, Nicely lit up at night. I checked into an education centre / student hostel, which seems to be operated by students. As I am alone, I paid for just one bed space, but got the whole dorm (which can fit probably eight) to myself. but everything else felt like boot camp in some old secondary school - the common bath, the choked toilets, dated wooden classroom furniture, and no Internet. There were some secondary students in the other rooms - probably playing cards or plain fooling around. I feel totally out of place; and there's nothing to do in Yilan at night.

宜兰   So I woke up darn early the next day. I decided to walk to one of the sites I intend to visit - which was a tortuous one hour away. The open space between Hsin Fu Temple and its gate has taken form in an intertwining landscape of what the locals call "Dragon and Phoenix Bridge". This is Kaixuan Park and Plaza, another project by Kung Shu-Chang and Josh Wu (Aura Architects). There's also Yang Shifang Park, the social welfare centre (both by Hwang Sheng-Yuan) and a trip up to Danjiang University and Foguang University. Along the way, 阿顺 the cab driver spoke of huge caves excavated by the Japanese during their occupational rule, big enough to house airplanes and tanks. He also spoke about the geomorphological expressions of Yilan - the goose, the snake, and the turtle. Most importantly, he spoke about how he had often wanted to bring his kids up to Danjiang University to do some barbecue, because the air and views up on this mountain are simply too good to miss - but he couldn't get past the security (in fact, barbecuing seems to be a national pastime - if they can be considered a nation - since doing BBQ on mid-autumn festival is getting more popular than eating mooncakes). His most pointed view though, is wondering when Singapore will follow in the footsteps of Hong Kong and Macau - to return to the embracing arms of motherland China? Although seriously way out of point, it should be remarked that his geographical perspective is definitely richer in local flavour and imagery-connectivity rather than actual dimensions and worldview. It is not always the angmohs who believe Singapore is somewhere in China.

一路上，我和阿顺师傅闲聊，问了问他在台湾游玩的方式。
“全台湾各地都玩过了吗?”
“玩过... 哪儿都到过。”
“都是开车的吗?”
“对呀。不然就是坐火车。”
“到各个火车站出租机车来游玩，方便吗?”
“是方便，而且便宜，可是一要懂路，二要烦哪里停车，三要提心吊胆机车会不会被偷...”
“说得也是... 那住宿方面呢?”
“就找一些宿舍什么的，或者住进寺庙里也行啊。一家老小不讲究，可以休息一宿就行了。”

阿顺的提议很实在，简简单单，非常到位。

By night, I have reached Taichung.

台中 . 鹿港   The morning was spent visiting the Humanities Building and Chapel of Tung-Hai University, designed by Huang Ming-Wei / Hung Tsang-Wei and I.M. Pei respectively. The students were having orientation walkabout. Half past nine, I was in National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts (by Arctangent and Steven Chang Architects), enjoying some techno art exhibits of "Wandering in the Poetry" (for instance, Lin Chi-Wei's Kafka Machine, which requires the visitor to crawl into a low, dark chamber in the wall and experience transgressive sounds). In fact, Kafka Machine took reference to a particular Li Kuang-Yuan of the Spring and Autumn of Ten States Period, a sadist who enjoyed music in the form of cracking of whips and the wailing of victims in torture chambers, playing on the human flesh as instruments, surmounting pleasure and pain by creating an aesthetic system of music - albeit violently so. The twist in Lin's experiment is that the visitor ought to make the decision of subjecting him or herself to the machine voluntarily. Of course, the principal motive for doing so is to try to understand what an artist is trying to say. It didn't take long for me to exit this chamber of disturbing soundwaves - no wailing or whipping, just varying frequencies of static noise.

I ate a bit at Yongle Beancurd, and left for Lugang 鹿港, via Zhanghua. I had to settle in somewhere, and my initial plan was to decide between a true commoner's experience or a classic epicureanist delight - so it was between 天后宫香客楼 (a pilgrim's lodge for the famous Matsu Temple across the street) and 红楼 (which is actually a motel). After witnessing the windowless facade of 红楼(a tad too sleazy) and considering it's time to pamper myself after two nights of hostel-like lodging, I opted for Leader Hotel instead - something business-like and decently priced. Walking up 中正路 was made easy when a kind local stopped his car as I was midway through asking if I needed a ride. (Yes, definitely, thanks! Although it was merely a short twenty seconds only). I dropped my bag, took a stroll around the old streets, visited the temples and landmarks, and saw some interesting shops. It was almost 5pm. the sun sets at about six here. I asked if going to this place called Wang Gong 王功 will be very expensive and time-consuming from here. I was told it could be reached in half an hour or less; so I went. It was a windy place. There's a magnificent footbridge by Liao Wei-Li (AMBi studio), which looks like two structures colliding into each other. Yet they meet in clean folds like a paper origami, which probably gave it lateral strength. I went to the east side of the bridge, sat at a shelter, and watched the yolk sink beyond the bridge-line and tuck under the horizon. the sea breezes intensified after sunset; I had to walk with my weight against it. A group of locals came up the bridge, and went into the seafood restaurant nearby for their dinner. It was already dark at 7pm. Everyone else on Wang Gong were in pairs - this is a brilliant paktor spot; two by two, they left in their cars and scooters. I left the darkness too, and returned to Lugang's Yuzhen Zhai for two boxes of specialty cakes.

Then I walked passed Workinghouse, went in a bit and came out with a messenger bag - at a discount. And I only need to top up another NT dollar to qualify for a member's card. I tried to reason with the svelte lady in black that I have no use for that card:

"购满五百块就能拥有会员卡。多一元就行了。"
我指着柜台上零售的橡皮查，说“那就这个吧。”
“这个六块...” （嬉笑）
“吖我拿这会员卡也没用啊，我不是本地人。”
“哦，没关系，这卡全省通用的。”
“新加坡应该用不着吧。”
“哦...”

And it's not the first time I was assumed to be Taiwanese. The same happened when I money-changed at the bank and was asked to produce my ID. Neither were the cabbies able to tell where I came from. Only one driver in Taichung got it right - well, he happened to be a 外省人, And, interestingly, for the past fifty years he hasn't quite stepped out of Taiwan.

So what makes a Taiwanese?

台南 . 安平   It is the last full day of the trip. I made my way south to Tainan by train, deposited my backpack at the station, and went to Anping 安平 - about 20 minutes bus from Tainan Train Station, via bus number 2. On the immediate seat beside the driver, a little girl sat quietly, scrutinising curiously every person that came on board. Her legs were too short to even bend when seated on the chair. Each time the bus passed by a construction site, she would sound out something to the driver - who appears to be her Dad. Her Dad immediately understood her limited vocabulary: “对呀，怪手又来了，怪手，爸爸看见了啦。” (怪手means construction excavators - the one with big claws). I dropped at the Fort and headed for the Treehouse - 安平树屋- no free admission this time - which is renowned as the Ta Prohm of Taiwan, because the Fig trees have overgrown so much it is difficult to ascertain if the house is holding up the tree, or is it the other way round. Liou Kuo-Chan's intervention is to carefully locate light structures and skywalks leading to small treehouse shelters in this abandoned salt warehouse. The result is that a new treehouse has emerged from the old treehouse; one might find the steel and timber deck a prosthetic embellishment of the old; but when two bedtime stories overlap, you wonder which is fact and which is tale, who is the narrator, and what is the narrative?

A bit more walkabout in Tainan, and i was caught in the rain. By evening, I headed back to Kaohsiung, went for the second night market of my trip, shopped a little, went to Eslite bookshop again, and zonked. Next morning, I took the city bus to the airport, and flew back on a plane with less than half the seats filled up. The Taiwan customs officer looked at my particulars and asked: 第一次来台湾? Three and a half hours later, the flight landed on the Changi runway. In the rain.

宅男登厝啰。

References

阮庆岳 | 弱建筑 - 从《道德经》看台湾当代建筑
林芳怡 | 洪育成 / 萧瑞绮 | 台湾的木建筑
Yu Tung Liu | Glocalization - New Architecture in Taiwan 2000-2005

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