Taipei days
Anthony Dennis lands in the electronically charged Taiwanese capital wondering why he's there – and leaves wondering how soon he can return.
I've just arrived at Taipei's Taoyuan International Airport, having been confronted, from the window of my taxiing jet, by a massive red, blue and white Taiwanese flag draped across the terminal facade. It declares unambiguously that this is the Republic of China, not the People's Republic of China. As I walk from the aerobridge into the terminal proper, instead of the usual ads for Zegna ties and Dior handbags, I am assailed, curiously, with signs for all manner of widgets: cable-ties, semi-conductors and diodes. Electronics, after all, are a source of national pride, having provided the foundation for a Taiwanese standard of living that still far surpasses that of mainland China.
But, at this early point, it's hard to resist the sneaking question, "What am I doing here?" It's a valid proposition when you consider that Taiwan is an island that's lived under threat of an attack from its neighbour, the most populous nation on earth, just 180 kilometres across the Taiwan Strait. And yet, cable-ties, semi-conductors and diodes aside, there's that certain frisson of excitement attached to visiting a new place, especially one that's been so comprehensively ostracised politically, economically and diplomatically for decades as a result of its on-going rift with the mainland. Also Taipei rarely, nay never, makes it on to the itineraries of "Grand Tours of Asia" thus there's that faintly perverse satisfaction a traveller experiences at having arrived at a place which is, in effect, on the back roads of the Asian tourist trail.
From the back seat of the airport taxi I glimpse the almost sinister-looking, 508-metre high Taipei 101, the capital's principal landmark, recently eclipsed as the world's tallest building. Poor Taiwan. It just can't win. From my moving vantage point the tower seems to reach the ragged outline of most of the surrounding mountains, its bright white aircraft-warning lights blinking sharply in a distant chalky haze. But Taipei 101 will have to wait. On this, my first night in Taipei, I've chosen to head, not for the city centre, but for those hills that surround the capital and a much-vaunted hotel called Villa 32.
I've come to Taipei not to analyse Taiwan's political complexities, as difficult as they are to ignore, but with the intention of recording the emergence of yet another great Asian capital, a city that's said to be finally ready to assume a place in the pantheon of great Eastern hubs such as Tokyo, Seoul and Shanghai. No less a style arbiter than Tyler Brûlé, Wallpaper* magazine founder, believes that Taipei's time has come, having declared the city Asia's most underrated capital. Yet could a place that has had missiles trained on it for a decade be as worthwhile a place to visit as its more customary Asian counterparts?
Taiwan and China split in 1949 after Mao Zedong's rise to power and the decampment to the island of the vanquished Nationalist forces of Chiang Kai-shek. Taipei's National Palace Museum houses one of the world's best collections of Chinese artefacts, largely courtesy of the loot Chiang and his cronies brought with them across the Taiwan Strait. His arrival triggered decades of the martial law he imposed, ending only in the years after his death in 1975, when Taiwan established itself as a legitimate democracy. Since then the People's Republic has insisted that Taiwan is part of China, vowing to invade should the island ever formally declare independence. With the US as its closest, most protective ally, any such act would likely trigger an ugly global crisis. Taiwan, a country with a population similar in size to that of Australia, has therefore been dogged for decades by a simple question that has led to a political and diplomatic impasse: is Taiwan an independent nation or irrevocably part of China?
Earlier this year, however, following the defeat of the pro-independence Democratic Progressive Party by the more pragmatic, pro-China Kuomintang Party, tensions between Taipei and Beijing eased dramatically. An agreement was forged to reinstate regular direct flights between Taiwan and the Chinese mainland. Indeed, China's President Hu Jintao commented recently, "Many countries have managed to settle differences and contradictions and engage in co-operation with other countries successfully. We Chinese compatriots on both sides of the strait belong to the same family, so we have more reason to do so and do it better." What with airlines cutting flights to Taiwan and diverting them to the mainland, the island's tourism industry, which draws just 3 million visitors annually, could benefit greatly, though the Taiwanese worry about the influence of the giant next door. So perhaps the hitherto obscure Taipei may now suddenly qualify as one of those see-it-before-it's-too-late destinations.
The Beitou area of Taipei, where I'm headed, was popular among the Japanese who were harsh, though industrious, occupiers of Taiwan for 50 years, until the end of World War II. They opened many onsens – spa hotels – on the hillsides overlooking the city, exploiting the island's abundant hot springs, which reminded them of their homeland. In 1935 there were 35 hotels in Beitou, most of them Japanese-run and barred, except for servants, to local Taiwanese. One of the oldest of these establishments, Whispering Pines Inn, still operates, and is reputedly a haunt of Hollywood stars such as Richard Gere. It's a contrast to the nearby, ultra-contemporary Villa 32 with its five luxurious suites, each with its own hot springs bath. Just half-an-hour by taxi from the city centre, the hotel is set on the edge of Beitou's geothermal valley where hot springs are festooned with signs warning "Don't enter to soaks foot".
But just as I decide that Villa 32 is the perfect place to forget about thoughts of war in a city that has lived with such a prospect on a daily basis, I learn that just up the hill is the Taiwan Folk Arts Museum, built inside the former Jiashan Hotel. During World War II this gorgeous 1921 two-storey building acted as a "country-club" for the Japanese military and accommodated kamikaze pilots on the night before their suicide mission, when they enjoyed one last ritual bath as well as the company of lovers or Taiwanese call-girls, or both. The building, damaged by termites, sulphur erosion and humidity, has been recently restored and hosts, among other attractions, an interesting collection of Taiwanese "folk cultural objects", including relics from the island's indigenous inhabitants. But perhaps the most interesting exhibit is a preserved communal, Japanese-style bath (sans water). As you stand there it doesn't require much imagination to conjure images of kamikaze pilots soaking in steaming water, contemplating their fate and devotion to their Emperor.
The Japanese may have exploited Taiwan's resources, but it's acknowledged that they left the island with an enviable infrastructure. In the years following the war, this provided the basis for a solid economy, largely achieved by Taiwanese foresight in recognising the immense export potential for electronics. The legacy of the Japanese occupation is especially noticeable in Taipei; its wide, tree-lined boulevards are reminiscent of many cities there. And it was the Japanese who much more recently provided the technology for Taiwan's new inter-city bullet train, which cuts like, well, a samurai blade through the city's heart.
Back at Beitou, I'm impressed as much by Villa 32 as I am that hot springs exist so close to a large city. Since Villa 32 opened a few years ago, the hotel has attracted considerable international attention while also becoming a popular retreat for wealthy Taiwanese and expatriates. It remains the priciest place to stay in Taipei outside of a hotel presidential suite, having first opened as an exclusive club. Owner Chui Ming-hung, one of Taiwan's most successful stockmarket investors, wearied of visiting an empty, under-used property and decided to transform it into a hotel. There is an elegant hot springs complex for public use, while hotel guests have a choice of either European or Japanese-style suites, some of which feature lavish, gold-veined black marble baths that draw water from the adjacent geothermal valley. Later, as I slip into the healing waters of Beitou, ensconced in the privacy of the huge bathroom (one of two, no less) in my split-level suite, I can already feel the nagging question "What am I doing here?" fading like a worn-out diode.
Taking tea on the terrace leading from Villa 32's excellent Italian restaurant, I survey the hotel's clean, confident, architectural lines, replete with banks of teak screens, imposing walls of Australian sandstone and chic private gazebos. At the next table is a group of wealthy-looking, immaculately dressed Taipei women seated beside the garden, shaded by camphor and maple trees. I'm reminded of the 1994 Taiwanese film, Eat Drink Man Woman, about a Taipei chef who lives with his three grown daughters. The movie was directed by acclaimed Taiwanese director, Ang Lee, and introduced the world to a sophisticated Taipei. There's a scene where one of the characters talks about flying down to Sydney with the insouciance of a New York sophisticate announcing they're just popping across to London.
I'm in Taipei in the days leading up to New Year's Eve and there's already a palpable buzz. After a night at Villa 32, I head down the mountain to the city centre and the relatively less expensive Grand Hyatt, conveniently adjacent to Taipei 101. Nearby a large stage in front of Taipei City Hall Square is being erected. Everyone seems excited about the special fireworks display planned for the capital, with the tower as the spectacular focus. This year the celebrations will serve as an official farewell to Taipei 101's status as the world's tallest building, displaced by the Burj, an even more ridiculously sky-scraping tower in Dubai. The Taiwanese attach a certain sentimentality to Taipei 101. It has served to shape a much-needed image of the city in the eyes of the world, helping to project a sense of modern Taipei into the popular, global consciousness in a way that cable-ties, semi-conductors and diodes couldn't quite manage. While the tower is not especially appealing architecturally, resembbling, as it does, stack after stack of antique Chinese bedside tables, it remains a vital symbol of Taiwanese enterprise; a grandiose glass and steel "up-yours" to the mainland Chinese. Indeed, a whole new city has been built around Taipei 101, complete with a network of elevated covered walkways directing pedestrians to some of Asia's finest, frenzy-free shopping. It's around here that you'll find Eslite, Taipei's much-loved, 24-hour book store, complete with an impressively large, food court with nary a hint of English-language signage.
But don't let language barriers be an impediment to enjoying what is indisputably one of the best food cities in Asia. This, after all, is a city famed for its dumplings, a minor delicacy derived from the mainland and refined here. And while there is no shortage of places to eat them, Din Tai Fung is an institution (which has just opened an outlet in Sydney) where locals and visitors alike queue out the door for a table. Just as you enter there is a glass-fronted kitchen that houses the dumpling assembly line, overseen by a scrum of chefs dressed in white and wearing surgical-type masks. Elsewhere, waitresses in short black skirts deliver plates of delicate dumplings, which, when broken, ooze delicious soupy contents. Just around the corner is one of the bustling roads that run through the Yongkang Park district. This area, best enjoyed after dark, is full of Japanese-style houses and lively streets lined with faddish frozen-ice shops with names like "Ice Monster", sweet cafes, inviting antiques stores and oodles of noodle and dumpling joints.
One evening, acting on a recommendation from a Taiwanese at the Grand Hyatt, I'm drawn back up into the hills to visit an extraordinary restaurant called Shi Yang Shan Fang, situated within Yangmingshan National Park. My taxi climbs so high and for so long, up winding roads above the twinkling city below, that I wonder if I'll ever get there for breakfast, let alone dinner. But, amid mist at the mountain's summit, I'm greeted at a set of gates by a welcoming, umbrella-wielding figure who escorts me down a slippery, largely unseen path to one of three separate single-storey pavilions, softly illuminated by a series of large, rice-paper ceiling lamps and packed with diners. An impressive and appealing sight, it resembles more a religious mountain retreat than a world-class restaurant, which is clearly the intention of the owner, an erstwhile architect.
Inside, the flooring consists of Japanese-style tatami, and thus I'm required to remove my shoes before entering. The restaurant is renowned for its use of fine local ingredients interpreted in a modern style with Japanese touches, and dishes are presented on tableware from Yingge, a notable Taiwanese pottery town. No alcohol is served and the prix-fixe menu has an emphasis on health and nutrition. The dishes include Japanese-style sashimi and a large bowl of long-boiled chicken soup with lotus root and ginseng. No wonder its Chinese name translates as "eating room on mountain to cultivate oneself".
The culinary skill displayed here is reminiscent of Tetsuya's, the world-class Japanese-French restaurant in Sydney. As a consequence I'm expecting a hefty bill. But it's about $35, making this one of the most inexpensive, outstanding dining experiences of my life. And the night does not end there. I am invited by the waitress to participate in a Fujian Gongfu Cha ceremony. In another atmospheric building, I squat on tatami in front of a table where white bowls are lined up before me. For the next hour, in a kind of liquid meditation class, I down bowl after bowl of 17-year-old Chinese tea, which is considered akin to a liqueur, before heading back down to the city.
Once many of the world's top fashion labels were manufactured in Taiwan, but slowly the business went to China, leaving behind many skilled workers. Now, with cross-Strait relations improving, a wider range of Taiwanese businesses are moving their operations to China, as Jamei Chen, one of Taiwan's leading fashion designers, explains. We meet at her studio around the corner from her shop on trendy Da-An Road. There she speaks of her "love of this island, despite the political difficulties", and the need for the authorities to encourage Taiwan art and design, particularly in the light of the international success of Chinese contemporary art and the eventual influx of mainland visitors.
"Taipei is isolated because of the political status quo between [Taiwan and China]," says Chen, when I contact her some months after my visit following the cross-Strait rapprochement. "Unlike Hong Kong or Shanghai, which are part of the mainland, Taipei is an orphan – it's a city that has had to fight for its survival. But the improvement in the cross-Strait relationship not only means that we as a Taiwanese people will be able to feel more secure, at least psychologically, it will also provide us with the chance to finally interact with people from the mainland."
Many of those visiting mainlanders are likely to encounter, as I did, a whole new generation of cosmopolitan Eat Drink Man Woman-style Taiwanese who have emerged, opening stylish bars, restaurants and accommodation in the increasingly fashionable, inner-city neighbourhoods of East Taipei. Top fashion designers, like Chen, have opened their own swish cafes-cum-shops; Chen's Dialogue is set just across the road from the beautiful colonial-style former residence of the US ambassador, now converted into the Spot Taipei film house, in the elegant old part of Taipei. Another leading designer, Isabelle Wen, is responsible for Sofa (a hip, late-night bar with – yes – more than two dozen different sofas) and the eclectically furnished Khaki.
For my last few nights I check into the quirky VVG (Very Very Good) BB + B, as fine, and engaging, an example of the emerging cool Taipei as you'll find. Above a street where she operates a buzzy cafe, VVG Bistro, and VVG Table restaurant, proprietor Grace Wang has decorated two otherwise ordinary apartments with eclectic bits and pieces she's collected from her travels to places such as Shanghai and Thailand. As it eventuates, I'm the first Westerner to sample the just-opened apartment, Fancia. I'm escorted to my apartment, a wall-to-wall burst of creativity, by Wang's business partner, Evonne Hsiao. "Taipei's ready to grow up," Hsiao says. "Taipei people want their city to be more than just a business centre. There's been a transformation in the last five years with the emergence of a lot of new influences. In Hong Kong everyone is anxious and stressed. Taipei is a fast city but there's still a friendliness here. People still have time to stop and talk."
Indeed, after a week in Taipei, that sneaking question "What am I doing here?" has been replaced by "When can I come back?"
Guide to Taipei
GETTING THERE
Taiwan's national airline, China Airlines, has direct flights from Sydney and Brisbane to Taipei. www.china-airlines.com; Cathay Pacific flies from Australia and New Zealand to Hong Kong with connections to Taipei. www.cathaypacific.com. Qantas code shares with Eva Airlines to Taipei; www.qantas.com
WHEN TO GO
Taipei has hot summers and mild winters. The best time to visit is October and November.
WHERE TO STAY
Villa 32
Doubles from $560.
32 Zhongshan Road, Beitou;
+886 2 6611 8888;
www.villa32.com
Grand Hyatt Taipei
Doubles from $300.
2 Song Shou Road, Taipei;
+886 2 2720 1234;
www.taipei.grand.hyatt.com
Les Suites
Doubles from $260.
135 Da-an Road, Section 1, Taipei; +886 2 8773 3799; www.suitepe.com
VVG BB + B
Doubles from $234. Second floor, 18-20, Alley 40, Lane 181, Section 4, Chung-Hsiao East Rd; +886 2 2775 4386; www.VVGBBB.com.tw
WHERE TO EAT AND DRINK
Shi Yang Shan Fang
Dinner for two $35. 160, Lane 101, Qingshan Road, Shihlin District;
+886 2 2862 0078.
Din Tai Fung
Dinner for two $40. 194 XinYi Rd, Section 2, Taipei; +886 2 2321 8928;
www.dintaifung.com.tw
VVG Table
Dinner for two $211.
14, Alley 40, Lane 181,
Section 4, Chung-hsaio
East Road; +886 2 2775 5120.
VVG Bistro
Dinner for two $169.
20, Alley 40, Lane 181,
Section 4, Chung-hsaio
East Rd; +886 2 8773 3533.
Sofa
56, Lane 161, DunHua S. Road, Section 1; +886 2 8773 0906; www.isabelle-wen.com
Khaki Cafe Bistro and Bar
Departure Building, 15,
RenAi Rd, Section 4;
+886 2 2779 1152;
www.isabelle-wen.com
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