Glass Beads with the Heart of a Dancer

You could say that the dancers of Tjimur Dance Theatre are fired to perfection like the glass beads they make. And the analogy works the other way too: the glass beads contain the energy and passion of a nimble dancer’s footsteps.

I arrive in Sandimen on a clear, sunny Tuesday morning. I’m here in search of the “glass beads that dance.” The beads themselves don’t dance, but many of the people who make them do.

As we drive up into the mountains, Tjimur Dance Theatre’s artistic director Luzen Matilin (Liao Yi-hsin) explains the marriage between two very different artistic disciplines in her family: the refined, still beauty of the glass beads, and the expressive motion of modern dance incorporating elements of traditional Paiwan culture.

The front of the family’s workshop and dance studio

The dance studio is located right in the middle of the display area, offering a unique interaction between glass beads and dance.

Artistic Director Luzen Matilin

This is the warrior bead, or “Mananigai”, which Tjimur Dance Theatre used as inspiration for a recent performance.

This is a more traditional strand of Paiwan beads.

The workshop produces modern products like watches as well.

These glass figurines are popular items at the shop.

One of the lights in the shop is created from strands of glass beads.

One of the creations at Shatao

Raw materials used to create the color in the beads

One of the artisans guides me in making my own glass bead.

The little ones are excited to hear their own voices on my recording equipment.

Galusgus and Shatao with two of their grandchildren

(From L to R) Dancer Chu-yuan, Choreographer Balu, Luzen and her daughter, and me

A Man and his Moon-shaped Lute

It’s on one of my last days in Hengchun that I finally hear a tune plucked on a moon-shaped lute. A performing arts educator named Jenny Tai, who I encounter at Moonbeam Café, offers to bring me to Takuang Elementary School  where students are learning from a man named Chu Ting-shun, who is seen as somewhat of a national treasure. After a short performance incorporating lutes and African drums, Jenny and I go back to Chu’s house to listen to him tell stories and play one of the many moon-shaped lutes that line the walls of his living room. 

Students at Daguang Elementary share their skills with me.

Intense concentration

Jenny Tai’s infectious enthusiasm is a driving force in preserving the cultural heritage of Hengchun.

This is one of the younger students in the class.

The students and teachers pose for a picture with Chu Ting-shun.

(From L to R) Me, Jenny, Grandpa Chu, and Principal Lai Yu-hsueh

One of the students accompanies Chu as he leaves the building after class.

Grandpa Chu points to a statue of his predecessor Chen Da, which is located on the campus of Daguang Elementary.

Chu Ting-shun reminisces about days gone by.

Power Shopping at the Hengchun Morning Market

 If you really want to experience for yourself the essence of a small town in Taiwan, you need to get up early and make a trip to a morning market. At 8:30am, Mei-hui and I are already running a little late, but there is still much to be seen.

“Ah-Po” (grandma) has been a fixture of the Hengchun market for 50 years.

Wu Mama sells her “salty cakes” from a roadside stall.

The owner’s son shows me the different types of sweet glutinous rice dumplings.

These dumplings are ready to be steamed.

Glutinous rice is pressed into a lucky turtleshaped mold.

This turtle-shaped mold is used for making sweet glutinous rice dumplings.

Sampling the sweet glutinous rice dumplings

This peanut dumpling gets a thumbs up!

This blacksmith makes household tools and sharpens knives.

The elderly use these tools to “chew” their betel nuts.

Betel nuts are actually more of a fruit than a nut.

This vendor allows shoppers to choose their own betel nuts.

These leaves are spread with lime and then wrapped around the betel nuts.

Caught sampling the goods!

This woman has been selling veggies at the market for years.

It’s hard work getting up early and bringing the produce to market.

Mei-hui checks out the turnips at the morning market.

Jia-ming sells her pyramid-shaped glutinous rice dumplings in front of the post office.

“Ah-bei” (grandpa) has been selling his mung bean soup for 40 years.

The steamed mung beans are stirred into a thick, sweet soup made of sweet potato flour, brown sugar, longans and water.

Caught sampling the goods!

Lungkeng: Mighty Waves meet a Fragile Shoreline

The most spectacular of all the rainy-day sights can be found at Longkeng, where visitors are limited to just 200 a day. As we edge toward the craggy shore of the southernmost tip of Taiwan, we pull our jackets tighter against the gusting winds and sea spray and marvel at the juxtaposition of the mighty waves and some of the most fragile and unusual plant life clinging to the windblown surfaces. 

Visitors to Lungkung are limited to 200 a day.

These waves are tame compared to the ones we saw about ten minutes later.

Many of the plants at Lungkung are so delicate that you’ll miss them entirely if you are not paying attention.

Even the fallen leaves at Lungkung offer a splash of color on a grey day.

These little berries look like delicate lanterns.

You need two of these flowers in order to form the heart shape in the middle.

These cabbage-like plants populate the southernmost shoreline of Taiwan.

Delicate flowers near the shoreline

The path back inland

Register to visit Longkeng here:

http://system.ktnp.gov.tw/Activity/clinebooking.aspx

Houwan: Salt on the Rocks

At Houwan, Mei-hui shows me how sheets of salt crystals form when the sunlight evaporates seawater that has gathered in craters along the rocky coral shore. She says that while the government no longer restricts the collection of sea salt, only store-bought salt contains the iodine that would have prevented her and many of her classmates from needing a thyroid operation back when they were younger.

Winter trees anchor the sky to the craggy shoreline of Houwan.

The Qing Dynasty originally wanted to build the town of Hengchun on that distant shore. But they changed their minds because they were concerned about being shelled by Japanese vessels.

Waves break along the coral shoreline at Houwan.

Mei-hui and Chiu-ping set off in search of salt crystals.

Mei-hui shows me some of the salt she has gathered.

A bed of salt crystals lines a crater at Houwan’s craggy coral shoreline.

Gangkou: Stunning Scenery in Rain or Shine

One of many murals to be seen in Gangkou

Our trip takes us past stunning fields of pink cosmos on the road to Gangkou, a town in which many of the residences have been adorned with beautifully painted murals that speak volumes about the local culture: here a scene of women picking tea leaves; there a wall covered with flying fish; down the road a mural of farmers working the fields.

At the Gangkou Weeping Chinese Banyan Reserve, Mei-hui shows me what at first glance looks like a grove of trees, but turns out to be one massive banyan tree. The curious setting is like nothing I’ve ever seen, and has purportedly even attracted the attention of director Ang Lee, who was scouting for places to film.

The suspension bridge at Gangkou is supposed to be a good place from which to view the moon over the water.

This grove of trees is actually one big banyan tree.

A sea of pink cosmos at Gangkou

One of many murals to be seen in Gangkou

An aquatic scene not to far from the ocean

The road to Gangkou

A sea of orange flowers

Pink Cosmos

Boats for rent at Gangkou

A view of the broad ocean beyond

In Lieu of Sunshine: Moonbeams

The Moonbeam Cafe turns out to be a pivotal place in my trip to Hengchun.

Later, Kristine heads back to Taipei and I’m left once again to fate. I rent a scooter and head back into the town of Hengchun in search of a way to appreciate the area that doesn’t require sun — perhaps something cultural or historical.

I’m drawn to a little café called “Moonbeam” and I muse that if I can’t find sunshine, then I’ll have to settle for some moonshine. I get myself a delicious cup of coffee made from fresh-roasted beans, and in the process meet the store manager Alan Liu, who introduces me to the owner Willy Wu. It turns out that I’ve stumbled on a café which has become somewhat of a meeting place for people interested in music, culture and history.

Willy himself comes from an old established Hengchun family, and returned to set up shop here after having studied food and hotel management in Canada. In 1999, he opened the adjoining Chun Cheng bookstore, which bills itself as the “southernmost bookstore in Taiwan.” He then opened the café about eight years ago.

The Moonbeam Cafe turns out to be a pivotal place in my trip to Hengchun.

Proprietor Willy Wu behind the counter at his bookshop

A poem about Hengchun by Sung Tze-lai hangs behind the cash register in Willy Wu’s bookshop.

Musicians perform for free out in front of the Moonbeam Cafe.

Cafe manager Alan Liu (second from left) sings in front of the shop on a Monday night.

One of Liao Mei-hui’s modeling creations for the Year of the Rabbit.

Land’s End

The southernmost point marker points to the cloudy sky.

At the very southern tip of the island of Taiwan you’ll find an unusual statue pointing heavenward as though making a complaint about the ominous clouds gathering overhead. From a distance it looks like some sort of solar clock, or a pagan marker in a ritual to mark a celestial occurrence.

Flocks of Chinese tourists have come to see this southernmost tip of Taiwan and it occurs to me that they must view this spot as being one of the farthest reaches of their country. Two Japanese tourists are also there taking photos, and I can’t help but muse at how at one point in history, this place would have meant the same thing for them, too.

For me, there’s something romantic about the idea of traveling to “land’s end” that has nothing to do with nationality. Peering off into the ocean, you can’t help but feel that if you go far enough into the distance, you – and the boat you road in on – will fall off the edge of the planet.

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The southernmost point marker points to the cloudy sky.

My edge of the world pose.

Kristine looks slightly more natural.

The marker without the cool cloud effect.

Duck Meat and a Kitchen God

Kristine digs into our ducky feast.

That night we head into Hengchun for a night tour of the old town. We pass through the old Western Gate where a stretch of the old town wall is still visible. Along Chungshan Street we discover a small hole-in-the-wall which is selling what is easily one of the best meals to be found in town.

It’s not hard to find – just look for the green and white sign with a duck on it, and an open kitchen with men whacking wildly away at chunks of duck meat. On a cold night, the smells of a fragrant clear duck soup tempt visitors out in front of the restaurant.

Kristine and I devour bowls of cellophane noodles, stewed duck meat with a special sauce, and a plate of stewed intestines, seaweed, tofu and hard-boiled eggs.

After dinner, we take a stroll down Chungshan Street and its environs. I purchase a poster of the kitchen god at a store selling traditional temple goods like incense and paper effigies.

Later at a small drink shop next to the south gate, we order tall cups of sweet cold

A temple goods store where I bought my poster of the kitchen god.

 wintermelon tea with chewy baubles which we slurp through thick straws. I note the irony of the fact that we’ve chosen two foods whose Chinese names contain the character for winter (冬 or “dong”): cellophane noodles (冬粉 or “dong fen”), and wintermelon tea (冬瓜茶 or “dong gua cha”).

Duck Restaurant (夥計之家鴨肉冬粉): 889-1298

Tea Shop (小萍的店): 889-9261

It Would Have Been a Perfect Day at the Beach…

… except that it rains yet again.

Kristine heads out to surf anyway; I elect to stay in bed. We meet for brunch in Kenting and then decide to go for a coffee at the beachside canteen at the Caesar Cove Recreation Area. The beach is empty as expected, and we have our choice of tables too. We choose one with an umbrella and take refuge from the steady mist. We enjoy our coffee and the melancholic view of the winter ocean in silence.

Kristine takes in a view of the rainy bay.

The one thing about the rain is that it clears a beach like nobody’s business.

The Caesar Hotel’s canteen on the beach.