Some random observations from my 3 weeks in Taiwan:
Mass Transit
The subway (捷運) is really the way to go in Taipei and Kaohsiung. It’s cheap (I think the most I ever paid for a one-way trip was NT$24 [$0.80]), efficient, clean, safe, and (particularly in Taipei) extensive.
Subway trains in Taiwan are scrupulously clean, in part because all of the systems are relatively new in relation to those in most major U.S. cities. We’ll see how they age. And trains run frequently — I was pissed off in Kaohsiung one time around midday on a weekday because I just missed a train and I had to wait six whole minutes for the next one. How higher standards just raise expectations sometimes! I never had to wait more than three minutes for any other subway train during my entire three weeks on the island (17 April 2018).
A curious, but hardly unique, feature of Taiwanese subway stations is the glass partition along each platform. Sliding doors in the partition open more or less in tandem with the train car doors when a train is in the station (see my video). The two sets of doors close at the same time as well. This is to prevent people from committing suicide by throwing themselves in front of trains (and, I’m sure, to prevent people on crowded platforms from falling accidentally onto the tracks as well). Hong Kong’s system has the same safeguard, and some of the Beijing subway stations do too, if memory serves. In Taiwan there are also safety nets set up over any steep drops, such as under balconies overlooking escalators, for the same purpose. I believe suicide rates are higher in East Asia than in the West, but suicide is still quite rare, so I’m not sure if all this infrastructure is really warranted. And I’m not sure whether it’s the safety of suicidal people or the convenience of commuters — delays while some jumper’s guts are cleaned off the tracks are irritating, no doubt — that weighs most heavily in transit planners’ minds here.
- I remember having a conversation with my Chinese teacher in college about the lack of guardrails at various scenic mountainous tourist spots in China. I believe this was in the context of visiting a park in Oregon that had tall guardrails along a stairway up a ravine. He shrugged, smiled, and said, laughing, “In China, if somebody falls off a cliff, people say, ‘Well, there are 1.3 billion more where he came from.'” This leads me to suspect the anti-suicide measures here in Taiwan may be more about keeping the trains running on time. But maybe I’m just too cynical. I am a graduate of Reed College after all. We Reedies are frequently guilty of being too cynical.
These glass barriers in the Taipei Metro system are very modest by East Asian standards. In Hong Kong and Kaohsiung, the glass goes all the way to the ceiling. You know, in case any morose high jumper decides to end it all (9 April 2018).
You also see a lot of people wearing facemasks when you’re out and about in Taiwan. In some cases, that’s because of air pollution. I didn’t notice the air quality being particularly bad during my April visit to Taiwan (although I did notice hazardous air quality warnings displayed in Chinese only at the exits of Kaohsiung’s subway stations). At least not compared to my benchmark for poor air quality, Beijing. But also, people in East Asia will wear facemasks when they’re ill. So if they cough or sneeze, they don’t spread viruses and bacteria to others. I think that’s a very commendable practice.
Facemasks are an important item of clothing in East Asia. They’re even sometimes a fashion accessory. Most people wear either the surgeon-style facemask or the contractor-style one, but others wear colorful or patterned ones. I think I saw a girl wearing a Hello Kitty facemask in Hong Kong one time (9 April 2018)
In each city, I also took the bus at least once (more frequently in Tainan, which has no subway). It’s a little cheaper than the subway, but only marginally, and that assumes that (1) you get on the bus going in the correct direction (a mistake I made more than once), and (2) you don’t have to transfer. One of the few areas where the Washington D.C. Metro system compares favorably with its Taiwanese counterparts is free bus-to-bus transfers within a certain time window (an hour or two). In Taiwan, there’s no discount when you transfer from bus to bus, or from rail to bus.
There are two tricky things about riding buses in Taiwan: (1) Where to get on and off; and (2) when to pay. On some buses, such as this one, you board through the front door. On others, you board through the rear door and exit through the front. On others, you can embark or disembark through either door. Also, on some buses, you pay (Taiwan makes it easy with a couple of electronic stored-value cards that work on buses, the metro, ferries, convenience stores, etc. all throughout the island) when you board, on others you pay when you exit, and on some you have to swipe your card on both entry and exit. When in doubt, I just watch what everyone else is doing (23 April 2018).
Also, kudos to Google Maps. Its directions feature works brilliantly in Taiwan. The route maps and directions are detailed and, as far as I could tell during my time here, 98% accurate. Google’s estimated time of arrival for the next bus was usually pretty close, too. Plus, as a traveler, I prefer looking at maps on my smartphone rather than using a hardcopy map most of the time. Pulling out a map pegs you as a tourist, but looking down at your smartphone? Everyone else is doing that now, wherever you are in the world.
Are Google Maps transit directions this good in Washington, D.C.? I should have used this service more there. So often, I’d just say, “I don’t have time to study the bus route maps. I’ll just take Metro and walk 3/4 mile” (12 April 2018).
Motor Scooters
I won’t belabor this point, since I’ve made it multiple times before. I think Taiwan is trying to market itself as “the island of bicycles.” It’s not. It’s the island of motor scooters. Now I really shouldn’t complain here — imagine that all of the people zipping around on motor scooters were instead driving automobiles. Why, you’d need parking lots everywhere, and wider streets, maybe at the cost of sidewalks, to accommodate them… oh right. I know a place like that. It’s called the United States of America.
But, too late, I’m going to complain anyway. The scooters take those corners too quickly for my taste, don’t stop for pedestrians, and take up so much parking space under the awnings of shops that sometimes I have to go out into the street to get around them.
Scooters and cars are both my natural enemies here in Taiwan (12 April 2018).
(Deep breath) OK. Just had to get that off my chest one last time. Sri Lankan drivers stop for pedestrians in crosswalks, and for pedestrians outside of crosswalks, too. Did you know that Taiwan?
Ugly Buildings
There are, of course, many lovely buildings in Taiwan. Taipei 101, various old Japanese colonial buildings, and so forth.
Yes, Taipei 101 is a beautiful, stupendous building. But the utilitarian apartment buildings in this alley are more typical of construction here (8 April 2018).
These lovely pavilions in Taichung Park were constructed for the visit of a Japanese imperial princess in the 1910s I believe (13 April 2018).
But in general, buildings — especially residential units — in Taiwan are plain, or downright unattractive. In other words, I give them low marks for ambience.
This dingy apartment building faces the lovely Japanese pavilion in Taichung Park (13 April 2018).
Many buildings in Taiwan (and in China) have tiles like this on their exterior. Perhaps they repel the tropical heat. But they all remind me of gym locker rooms. “Locker room” and “ambience” don’t go together in my mind (23 April 2018).
Parks
I already mentioned that some parks in Taiwan are for show, and others are places where (elderly) people live their lives. I prefer the latter. One cute aspect of that is the fact that you see families “camping” in public parks on weekends. I should’ve asked if they actually stay overnight in those tents; I strongly suspect that they do not. But unlike Americans, most of whom live within a manageable day trip of a wilderness camping area, Taiwanese have to be a little more creative with their outdoor activities.
A sunny Sunday in April in Taipei. A perfect time to pitch a tent in a city park and enjoy some family time (8 April 2018).
Taiwan (and mainland China), you really need to get on board with the whole self-adhesive stamps thing. I remember having to glue stamps on to the letters I sent back home from my semester abroad in Fuzhou, Fujian Province, China in 1999. Nothing has changed since then, apparently. By the time I finished affixing the stamps, both my hands and my postcards were a sticky mess.
Admittedly, it took the U.S. Postal Service forever to get on the self-adhesive bandwagon. But before that, they had lickable stamps. Not very tasty, but definitely less messy than this (18 April 2018).
Garbage Trucks are not Ice Cream Trucks
This is a very important distinction to make wherever you live. But it was hard for me here in Taiwan because garbage trucks play this jaunty little tune when they roll into your neighborhood, just like ice cream trucks in the summer in the States.
There may well be some ice cream in there somewhere. But I don’t think you’d want to eat it (19 April 2018).