How exactly does one get lost in Taiwan? Well, reader, it could be something as simple as having crossed the road when one should not, of having ridden the wrong bus, of having ridden the right bus headed in the wrong direction, or, reader, it could be all of the above.
I’m not fond of the memory at all. To recall it now is to risk summoning nightmares. Have you ever truly been lost in a foreign country? It’s like your body enters survival mode. Language fails you. It feels like technology has failed you. And you’ve got nothing left but your own wits, and the setting sun, and your dwindling powerbanks, and the love you bear your travel companions.
But first, you breathe. Stamp down that impending panic.
“Ok, Google.”
By the Blue Purple Yellow Red Water
Rainbow Village
So, after riding the wrong bus, panicking, alighting in the middle of nowhere, catching a bus back to where we came from, and finally, riding the right bus, we arrived at Rainbow Village. We’d wanted to come early to beat the influx of tour groups, but I suppose not everything can go according to plan. We had a bit of a mini adventure instead. That was nice, right? Spontaneous. Exciting. No, thank you.
Rainbow Village is a tiny settlement of houses painted in bright colours. It used to be a military village, and was set to be demolished and redeveloped until an old soldier, Huang Yung-Fu, decided to paint over the houses. Students from a nearby university discovered Huang’s work and campaigned for the village to be saved.
That history of almost being wiped off the earth is palpable. Beside the village is a playground, and at its other sides are fields of grass. In the distance, a high-rise building is being constructed. Once you’ve done with the usual motions of taking selfies, you begin to realize what an odd piece of property the Rainbow Village is. Like eleven vibrant houses popping up in the middle of nowhere. A last bastion of colour in an industrial landscape. It’s no Monet, surely. There are no Van Goghs here, or Turners. The images are simple, the technique passable, but they are fun. They’re colorful, rich, and though they don’t represent several layers of meaning, they’ve done what they needed to do — they’ve kept the bulldozers away.
National Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall
Nestled safely back in Taipei, we came to the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall. The memorial hall is part of the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Park, which is over 240,000 sq.m. and houses the Gate of Integrity, National Concert Hall, National Theater, and the memorial hall. All of these structures are impressive, both in architecture and historic significance, but Liberty Square, that plaza of paved stones in the center of everything, is what ties them all together.
Taiwan as I’ve come to discover is, first and foremost, a democracy. Liberty Square has borne witness to many of its public demonstrations throughout the decades. I didn’t know that when we hurriedly walked past it to get out of the sun, but once we were in the memorial hall, we saw an entire wall of photos dedicated to the protests held in Liberty Square. People sitting on the ground, hoodies covering faces, lilies and sunflowers in hastily drawn placards, red streaks of paint. It doesn’t hit you until you step back and really think about it but — here is a photo exhibit, in the bowels of a monument which is supposed to glorify a government figure, about the actions of the people against government. Just imagine that — a culture that celebrates and memorializes radical demonstrations of democracy.
I stood there staring up at the history of Taiwan’s courage, and I thought about Hong Kong — it was a very different fight, happening miles away, but the very same values were at stake. Ten minutes ago, I was gazing up at the bronze statue of the one they call Chiang Kai-Shek, but to me this wall was the one that mattered.
Now, as to the memorial hall itself, it would be more apt to categorize the place under monuments or places of historic significance (see Part 1), but personally speaking, I would remember it more as an art and performance space. After climbing four stories to see the bronze statue of Chiang Kai-Shek, we made our way down the the exhibits below. The entire third floor, to my utter delight, was filled with vertical paintings from various artists. I didn’t see a sign explaining the theme, but I loved it all anyway. If this collection made me realize something, it is that mountains and rivers and clouds are my kryptonite.
The second floor was also dedicated to art, this time by a single artist named Kuo Kan-Ting. An entire gallery of small art pieces, some of which only the size of a Kobo, filled the white walls.
Songshan Cultural and Creative Park
If I were to go back to Taiwan, I would dedicate three whole days to its creative parks. Taipei is known for its milk tea, its massive skyscraper, its street food, but not many tourists know that it has a very active design scene. The Songshan Cultural and Creative Park is one of the many institutions that try to cultivate an environment for nurturing modern designers. Its mission primarily states that:
The Park is not designed with a commercial focus, but rather, its mission is to kindle creativity and innovation and to be in synch with the interdisciplinary developmental trend observed in today’s industries… The intention is to transform the Songshan Cultural and Creative Park into an iconic indicator for everyday aestheticism and design cognition.
That last bit? Put it in my epitaph.
Making the choice to be a designer — especially in an Asian country — is difficult and disheartening. Art, and more broadly, design, isn’t as appreciated as STEM, but if one were to take a look around, the most banal of objects are designed with rigorous intent — the closet beside your bed is designed to withstand a certain weight while still looking nice, the logo on your laptop is one of a hundred design studies, the handle of your soup ladle is a very deliberate red. The framed canvass as we know it is only one of the many expressions of design, but the truth is design is all around us. And it is as necessary as water flowing in our faucets.
Most of the creative park was office spaces and design studios, but there were galleries and art spaces spluttered in between. Hunting these down was like looking for buried treasure. The park also held events or special exhibitions from foreign and local designers. At the time of our visit, there were special exhibitions on “Alice in Wonderland”, Norio Nakamura, Bauhaus, “One Piece”, and Tape Art.
Entrance to the cultural park is free, but the special exhibitions have entrance fees of NTD 250 and above. I’d suggest choosing and spending on at least one exhibition to complete the cultural park experience, because if the public doesn’t support art, then that would be one step closer to a joyless world.
Huashan 1914 Creative Park
In an alternate universe, I wouldn’t have gone to Huashan Creative Park. In that universe, I would have skipped out on of the most entertaining times of my life.
We were having what you would call a “slow day” during our stay. We’d gone to most of the places in our list, our Taipei 101 tickets were slotted for the afternoon, and our morning was blandly empty. It was a Monday and most establishments were closed. In a fit of exasperation while looking at the homepage of yet another shop that was closed, I decided, “Ok, let’s go to another art park!”
Huashan is a smaller version of Songshan Cultural Park, but less of a melting pot for creative ideas and more of an event space. It’s open all week at all hours because of its events, and like Songshan traces its roots to a former factory (wine, this time). To my recollection, there aren’t any galleries, but they did have an interesting lineup of exhibitions. We decided to go to the kaleidoscope exhibition.
I’d never been to an interactive/immersive exhibition before so I was really looking forward to it. I’d heard of interactive exhibits, and one of my life goals is to experience one of Kusama’s rooms. There’s an ongoing debate if interactive exhibits should be considered “art”. Some call them merely “Instagram traps”, and unlike traditional art, do not force a person to perceive and reflect on the art and its subject.
But look… having finally been in one, I genuinely think that there is space for both. You can go to an art museum to feel something and you can go to a museum to take pretty pictures. The two serve different needs and the enjoyment of one does not diminish the value of the other. Man need not choose.
God Made Cat, and Was Pleased With What He Saw
We considered also going to the famous Houtong Cat Village, but since it was out of the way, I was instead determined to visit as many cat cafes as I could. In the end, we only went to a grand total of two cafes, but the experience was enough to curb my curiosity. Cat cafes aren’t new. The trend has led to a proliferation of cat selfies in Instagram and a growing concern over the health of cats being overfed and abused in cat cafes.
Cat cafes do have a tendency to exclusively pick up aesthetically-pleasing cats, but some have made it a point to pick up strays and make them available for adoption.
We were able to go to Kitten Coffee Garden in Shilin and Minimal Cat Cafe in Da’an. While the cats were adorable and soft and fluffy, I think it’s important to point out that not all the cats will be sociable. Cats have different personalities and are as mercurial as the local weather. Some of them will take a liking to you, some will only come to you when you feed them, and some just want to get some sleep. About half of the cats we saw were asleep or were trying to sleep when we busted into their abode begging for scratchies.
And that’s part of the charm of cats, isn’t it? You have to work for their love. You have to earn their trust. There is a poem called “Como Se Quiere A Un Gato” that roughly goes:
Love people
as if they were cats,
in their character and their independence,
without trying to dominate them,
without trying to change them,
let them come when they please,
be glad
for their happiness.
And I think that should apply to all kinds of cats, whether you paid to see them or not. None of the cats were aggresive, but not all of them were exactly vying for our attention. As it should be. As people are.
