Lukang: a thousand pictures for a single word
Lukang (鹿港, literally "deer harbor") was once the second-largest town in Taiwan, a bustling port with easy access to Chinese cities in Fujian across the Strait. Times have changed: intense siltage has filled the harbor and moved the seacoast some distance from the town, political tension across the Strait has nixed trade of any kind in the past fifty years, and, especially given the villagers' unwillingness to allow railroads to cut through their town, it is not hard to see why the rest of Taiwan has moved on while Lukang languished as a forgotten backwater.
However, this very isolation from the dramatic modernization which has whipped through the rest of the island has now proven to be Lukang's most valuable asset. The ancient winding alleyways, the carved temples and traditional crafts that persisted in this village as the winds of change blew elsewhere mean that Lukang now hosts some of the best-preserved architecture and cultural traditions in all of Taiwan.
Our first stop in Lukang was at the famous Longshan Temple (龍山寺, literally, "Dragon Mountain Temple"). Longshan is a temple devoted to Taoist and Buddhist beliefs as well as some elements of folk religion, symbolic of the syncretic nature of Taiwan's religous traditions. It is well-known for being one of the best-preserved Qing dynasty temples on the island. It dates back to the 17th century, although it has only stood at its current location since 1786.
The temple is primarily devoted to Guanyin (觀音), goddess of mercy and one of the most popular deities worshipped in Taiwan. An interesting tidbit I learned is that Guanyin -- probably because of her association with the ideals of compassion and pity -- is often associated with vegetarianism in East Asia. Often the vegetarian restaurants and buffets you can find here in Taiwan and elsewhere will be decorated with statues or paintings of her likeness.
Contrary to popular belief, the swastika was not invented by Hitler or the Nazi party, but was actually adopted by them from ancient sources. It is often associated with Dharmic religions like Buddhism and Hinduism, and is frequently used, as this one is, to mark Buddhist temples in East Asia.
Unfortunately, during our visit, much of the temple was hidden by big construction platforms as the temple is being refurbished. However, we made the most of our time after seeing what sights there were by taking some silly pictures in the broiling sun.
Here are some of our pictures with the TAs. As you can see, the sun was still pouring down. Many students sat on the temple steps, angling for some shade, fanning themselves with maps.
Like my shirt? Can you believe several people (American students!) asked me to explain my T-shirt and had, in fact, never even heard of Ithaca, NY? I'm probably way too east-coast-centric in my assumptions about what people should be expected to know about US geography, but I was still surprised. Anyway, we left the temple area soon after, and began our tour of Lukang's twisting historic alleyways -- easily my favorite part of the whole experience.
Lukang was built to suit its particular geography -- its port location, and, especially, the strong northeasterly monsoons which blow large amounts of sand and dust into the area. These so-called "September winds" are mostly to blame for the maze-like nature of the town's streets, although security concerns were also important, since the port was vulnerable to attack from bandits and outsiders in its early days.
The best part was probably "Nine-turns Lane" (九曲巷), which some claim was actually named for the September winds (September is literally called "nine-month" in Chinese) rather than for the number of twists in its path. I couldn't keep track of the number of turns we made, but it did seem like more than nine!
Most of the houses were still lived-in and well kept-up, as far as I could tell. Little pots of lily-pads and lotuses lined the stone alleyways, bikes rested near brightly-painted doors, and gardening tools leaned up against little greenhouses and sheds. Even the mailman visits regularly, as evidenced by the small bundle of mail in the picture above, although I don't envy his job!! Without Katie, I would have been lost in about 15 seconds.
I just couldn't stop snapping pictures of the myriad wonderful little compositions of color, size, and historical and organic elements which we encountered around every corner.
Many of the old buildings are in disrepair, but the sunlight made everything look bright and clean despite the rubble we occasionally encountered. In a way I really liked the fact that some of the area had not yet been restored and refurbished -- it really helped add to the feeling of genuine historicity that permeated Lukang.
Of course, I much prefer Lukang with its modern elements as well, not least of all because they helped us survive the long walks in the sweltering sun. I can actually only remember one other day in my entire life that I was ever this sweaty, and that was the day that Kevin and I went to Tian Tan in Beijing, and similarly spent all day trekking around in 90-degree humidity.
One of our neat stops along Nine-turns Lane was the "Window of Rememberance." This round window is made of tiles in patterns of calabash gourds and ancient Chinese coins, symbolizing good fortune and wealth. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about the window was the story told about a sailor's widow who used to pace the floor behind that window, waiting for a husband who would never return. I was struck (and I'm surprised Katie didn't say something about it as she described the tale) by how similar this story is to the whole western genre of ghost stories involving widow's walks and lonely wives whose lovers were lost to the sea.
The old Dutch inhabitants have left their architectural impression on the city, and the layers of historical events that have shaped Lukang were apparent again and again as we encountered new sights and cultural relics.
This picture was taken just a few minutes before I was able to finally find a vending machine to buy some water and iced tea. We relished the small bit of shade afforded by the trees you see in front of the homestead in the background of the shot, where one of the town's oldest residents lives. He makes his living brewing one of the town's traditional specialties: grass tea, a sweet, black liquid often flavored with chunks of black herbal jelly.
I tried some of the grass tea -- it was an interesting flavor, intensely sweet, and just a bit too black for my comfort. Some of my classmates loved it, but I was more excited about trying some of the town's other culinary delights, which we came across as we left Nine-turns Lane and entered the old market area of the town.
Of course, the heat only increased with the activities we began around noon, which involved baking some traditional Taiwanese cakes known as 牛舌餅 ("cow-tongue cakes," thankfully named for their shape rather than their ingredients). Half the class piled into a tiny vendor's area at the side of an alley, where a family who specializes in 牛舌餅 graciously shared their supplies with us and showed us how to prepare the sweet, oblong cakes.
After we had each prepared a cake or two, we filed out into the street to watch one of the women quick-fry the little cakes, flipping each one over numerous times on a hot surface with a flat wooden paddle.
At last, the piping hot cakes were slid into little paper bags and delivered into our waiting hands. The flavor was nice -- very sweet, sporting a flaky exterior dotted with black sesame seeds and an almond-paste like filling with a similar taste.
After that, it was definitely time for lunch. Katie informed us of the two restaurants in the area that had AC, and we flew there like moths to a light. My group wound up eating in a fairly expensive but really cute restaurant which seemed to have a kitschy, 1940s and 1950s theme, with old Taiwanese movie posters on the wall and antique toys displayed beneath glass on our table tops. I ordered the vegetarian hotpot, which actually came with its own burner and spices, for me to add ingredients and cook the pot to my liking, just as in real hotpot restaurants.
Of course, as you can see above, there was no shortage of other stuff to eat in Lukang, and after cooling off enough in the AC, we were primed for another round of snacking and shopping. I purchased a giant bag of sweet potato chips to share with Sassa from a vendor selling several varieties of fried treats, while other classmates were even more adventurous. Although technically no longer a harbor town, Lukang still prides itself on traditional seafood dishes and snacks. My friend Manuel, above, actually ate one of the things in shells below -- and lived to tell the tale!
After that, we did a bit of wandering, then visited another temple closer to the center of town, where I illustrated the method of Buddhist worship I had learned in Beijing, and we burned some incense at the rear-most part of the temple.
The building was truly beautiful, and, unlike Longshan temple, not under construction, so many more areas were open to the public. Unfortunately, our visit was cut short by our next group activity, which involved making a different kind of traditional Taiwanese cake, called "phoenix-eye cake" (also, like "cow-tongue cake," thankfully named for its shape rather than its constituent parts). This cake required no baking at all, but involved pressing a mixture of ingredients into an ancient-looking wooden mold, then releasing it in pressed form.
In the foreground, silhouetted: classmates Christian and Sasha.
Many people disliked the powdery texture of the cake (particularly on such a hot day), but I quite liked it. Some of the boys challenged each other to a cake-eating contest, to determine who could swallow a huge mouthful of the powdery cake first. Kevin triumphed, but I hardly had enough time to tease him about participating in such juvenile activities before I, too, was challenged to a competition among the girls. I tend to hate these kinds of things, but went along with it.
The first few seconds of chewing were the most painful -- my mouth felt as if it were filled with cement and for a few terrifying moments it was actually impossible to move my jaw. The funniest part was watching the faces of the other girls as they also struggled with the sand-like powder in their mouths, and the most pleasant part was when I regained my power to chew. However, the most satisfying part was when I won!!
The childish games did not end at our next stop, the Lukang Folk Arts Museum. This is truly a remarkable building, a mansion constructued in Western style during the Japanese colonial period, which looks more like the Barker Center back at school than anything else. It was a giant, maze-like building with myriad exhibitions of traditional Taiwanese artwork, as well as exhibits about the town of Lukang and its history. By far our favorite part, though, was the big selection of toys and games which were simply available to us in a shed outside the museum in the mansion gardens. A big wooden swing hung from a tree; stilts and hoops and a feathered hacky-sack were quickly discovered; an artificial river laced with stepping-stones bubbled nearby. The biggest hit of all was a Chinese yo-yo, which Kevin couldn't resist picking up and then showing off his skills.
After that, it was time to leave. We stopped for bubble tea and iced lattes at a little tea and coffee shop nearby, then piled into the bus for the long, mercifully air-conditioned ride home. I, for one, couldn't wait to get into the shower.
posted by Kelly @ 8:28 PM
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