Boarding the ferry and immediately returning to our public transport induced state of uncontrollable sleep, we left Lanyu and two hours later landed on the far south of Taiwan, at Kenting.
Our aim was to head to Tainan, the ancient capital and oldest city in the country. However, the lack of internet access for the last few days and our willingness to jump into things assuming everything will be fine came back to bite us. We got off the ferry and quickly realised we were in the middle of nowhere surrounded only by tour buses.
The bus drivers were chronically disinterested in our plight and yet without their help we finally figured out we needed to get to a town a few kilometres away. We began walking. Trudging uphill in the blazing midday heat along a busy road, we were exhausted. The Tour de Lanyu had sapped all enthusiasm for exercise, we just wanted to find our bus and be on our way. These less than ideal circumstances meant that silence and intermittent gravelly grumbles of discontent were the soundtrack of our living hell. I was withering quickly in the heat and half way up that hill, taunted by the 5 star hotels flanking the road, I’m confident I saw my soul (which was somehow also sweaty) leave my body, turn around to give me the middle finger and then saunter off to the spa. Haven’t heard from the selfish bastard since.
We reached the small town and couldn’t make heads or tails of the bus stops (we still hadn’t mastered Taiwanese or Mandarin and for some reason the only words I knew were “rice”, “chicken” and “thank you”, none of which applied in our situation).
We asked a few old men where to go. They were incredibly kind, offering us places to sit and cold water to drink, but unfortunately all of them were certain we needed to be in vastly different areas of their town. Eventually, confused and all but defeated by the relentless following of contradictory information, we came to rest under a tree. A few minutes later a young man came along and I decided to ask him how to get to Tainan, desperation clearly exuding from every ounce of my being. Luckily, he turned out to be one of the kindest people we met on this trip. He asked around for the correct bus stop and picked us up on his moped to take us there. The correct bus stop turned out to be opposite the first old man, who had told us to walk a kilometre in the wrong direction. He dropped us off and gave us two ice cold drinks he had bought for himself. We sat there with some old men who pulled out chairs from their homes to keep us company. Even if we shared the same knowledge of each other’s languages and apparently the same understanding of local bus routes, it was a lovely thing for them to do. The bus arrived and the young guy came back to check we got on it ok and gave the bus driver the information of where we needed to go. After saying our goodbyes, the rest of the journey was a dream. Two air conditioned buses with fully functioning Wi-Fi took us all the way into central Tainan. We arrived, vowing to never be at the beck and call of some random old Taiwanese men again.
Tainan
Not to be confused with Taiwan, Taipei, Taitung or Taichung; Tainan was somewhere new and we were excited to explore. However, after our few days milling about the city, we found that the attractions we had read about, the ones that had come highly recommended, were overpriced, overrated rubbish. Ok no, that’s going a little far, but we had found better stuff to do. So, read on to receive my wisdom on the good, the bad and the ugly sides of Tainan.
The New City
After our travel ordeal, we pushed ourselves out into the city to get a feel for the place. In my opinion, an essential aspect to the travel experience is just wandering free from sightseeing obligations, to soak in some atmosphere, to walk somewhere because it looks interesting to you in that moment and not to just appease the Lonely Planet book your parents bought you. On this night, we discovered tucked away temples shrouded in the gloom of back alleys, where the only illumination was the soft warmth of lantern lights. We moved through incense smoke which hung lazily in the still air and danced our way through the hungry Taiwanese masses at the night market. Finally, we returned to the hostel, waded into the deep and mellow waters of noughties R&B and chatted the night away.
Blueprint and Bread
Waking up feeling rejuvenated and already half a box of complementary crackers down, I pulled Brendan away from his book and we decided to head vaguely in the direction of the Blueprint Culture and Creative Park. After a rice-based breakfast, we arrived to the park with a full belly. The area turned out to be a quaint architectural artscape, squeezed into the centre of the city where small shops, graffiti and unique structures all resided. We walked around admiring the creative character of the place, which changes with every turn, while the rain slowly intensified. Having seen the park in less time than we expected and fearing an incoming sky-borne onslaught, we ran across the road to the Shin Kong Mitsukoshi department store.
Without knowing it, at that moment we had set foot in a paradise. For us it was 14 floors of unadulterated fun, where we perused everything from 70-inch flat screen TVs to pin-striped suits. Without the intention of purchasing anything we felt free to waltz around the stores for hours discovering a go kart track, a cinema and finally the most wondrous discovery of them all, the food courts.
As we set about our methodical tour of the main food court area, we caught the faintest of smells. The most minuscule of whiffs. The sultry caress of a long yearned for aroma had, by the miracle of some subterranean airflow, been wafted to us. The smell was real bread. Unsweetened bloody bread. It was irresistible and only growing more infectiously welcoming. It wasn’t long before we were at the source, Johan’s Bakery. We dived into that place without a second thought and soon we were losing our minds at the sight of loaves. Brendan and I worked each other into such a frenzy over the baked goods that deep breaths weren’t helping and that was when the cheesy bread was spotted. We lost our God. DAMN. MINDS. We started swearing at the bread in disbelieving astonishment that it was actually there. Utterly insane at this point, we had lost all grasp on reality.
Our one lifeline out of the swirling pool of insanity in which we were drowning, was the fact that we had money to buy some of the bread. Shaky hands rattled through Taiwanese coinage, wondering whether handing it all over would expedite the bread delivery. We soon had bought two cheesy masterpieces each and sat down to consume them. I can truly say that every bite was a profoundly spiritual experience. Bite by bite their softness and cheesiness forged a pathway through the haze of bakery-induced psychosis and we escaped that bakery with our minds intact. Well, as intact as they had been when we arrived (you know, when we were swearing at bread).
Culture and Curry
Coming off the euphoric high of good bread, I was worried we may slip into a melancholic slumber, so we quickly set off to the Tainan Art Museum.
The museum itself is set over at least four floors with over a dozen galleries. Firstly, the open simplicity of the interior design was refreshing and once we started looking around the displays, we were even more impressed. The variety of artwork was amazing and the explanations of the rooms’ themes as we entered was very informative and interesting. We spent a long time in this museum learning many things and then, within the hour, forgetting all of it.
Feeling the knowledge drain from me as the hunger rose to take its place, we crossed the street and picked a random café/ restaurant from a long line of options. It turned out to be a wonderful place with oddly decorated cushions. The old lady who owned the place made us feel very at home and served me a massive bowl of beef curry for £2. Therefore, you will understand the fact that I made a solemn vow to her that we would return.
Old City
So after our busy first day, we decided to catch the bus to the old town, where Tainan was supposed to be at its most beautiful and intriguing.
Being grumpy until I get food – Part (how many days have we been travelling by this point? Actually no, how many days have I been alive?)
Fort Zeelandia was our first stop and as we started to walk around my enthusiasm quickly began to wane. It was one of the hottest days we had experienced in Taiwan yet, and that was vastly altering my level of interest in the Dutch and their crafty colonialist ways. It was an interesting place with 400 years of history, some fairly small exhibits and plenty to look around but I left most of the reading to Brendan.
I was in need of something cold, sweet and refreshing. Something to kickstart my baking brain. The solution was shaved ice. Neither of us had tried it before but had been told tales of its brilliance. We nabbed the last seats in the cafe and ordered ourselves the classic mango shaved ice. What came was a mountain. A mountain of ice, drizzled all over with sweet milky stuff, then bombarded with freshly cut mango and topped with mango syrup and some green ice cream. It was a hit of sugar that left our mouths tingling and our bodies firing on all cylinders to see the next sight.
Anping Tree House
It’s too expensive. It’s too commercialised. It’s a warehouse covered in trees.
Now admittedly, I love the Banyan trees that cover this house, they are a complicated mess of roots and you can see them all over the country. However, in the end it is just a warehouse with some trees that you are afforded the luxury of seeing from every angle thanks to aerial walkways. It’s a waste of time and money. Spend your money more wisely. Buy food.
Final thoughts
This post was a rollercoaster of emotions and that was without mentioning the incredibly frustrating realisation that we are both awful at Uno. Without mentioning my utter disbelief that two guys we met at the hostel had only eaten pizza and 7eleven food for the last two weeks in Taiwan (a country famed for its food). Without mentioning our final meal as we headed for the train station. It was at the same café again, with the old lady and her crazy cushions. As we left she said her final goodbyes to us as if we were her own children going away for a while. You’ll be forever in our hearts for your kindness (and for your curry).
