What is this “Taiwan” that we take for granted? We have long been used to viewing the ocean through car windows or exploring the mountains via artificially built trails. However, in this month’s Cover Story, we have tried to turn our attention in bolder directions. When one’s perspective changes, once familiar scenery takes on surprising new dimensions and depths.
Our altered vantage points started with the ocean. To visit the Northeast Coast, we did not follow the coastal highways, but boarded a boat to gaze at the shore from the sea. As we did, the familiar Bitou Cape headland transformed into a magnificent warship, and seaside rock formations, previously only seen from above, reappeared like layer cake with multiple strata accumulated over millions of years. For local residents, the sea has no road signs, and they have their own names for rocks and reefs based on form and function. This perspective helped us better understand how these people who coexist with the ocean have built up a body of life wisdom all their own.
Turning to the mountains, we learned to see through the eyes of hunters. In the forests of Wulai and Tfuya, every branch, leaf, or animal trail conveys a message. We learned not only to climb the mountains, but to “read” them. Our Indigenous guides reminded us that the forests are not there to be conquered, but to be lived with harmoniously. When animal populations fall, one must suspend hunting in affected areas to let the forest recover. In their respect for nature, we saw the most ancient and most modern wisdom of sustainability.
A change of perspective can also occur in the concrete jungle and in human interactions. Behind the glass curtain wall of the newly refurbished Nanmen Market, we saw a place no longer filled with the noise and mess of a traditional market, but with a modern resilience demonstrated by generations of people striving to preserve “the tastes of home.” At the Taipei Botanical Garden, we followed the viewpoint of foreign visitors and joyfully discovered that in their eyes, the plants we take for granted are treasures of Formosa.
Lastly, 99-year-old “national treasure” festive lantern artist Hsiao Tsai-kan taught us to see the artistic value of light. When the switch is flipped, light bestows a soul on normally static frameworks. His lanterns are not mere holiday decorations, but works of art, embodiments of faith, and vehicles of memory.
The world may not have changed, but when we ourselves move and change perspectives, Taiwan has greater depth and vitality than we ever imagined. We invite you to enjoy this issue and re-envision Taiwan with us.
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