Pali: Storied Past, Uncertain Future

Have you heard this legend? Liao Tianding, Taiwan's Robin Hood, fleeing from imperial soldiers, took refuge in Pali, where he fell in love with a local woman, and, later, at age 27, was murdered in the Monkey Cave at Laochienkeng (in Pali Rural Township) by one of his best friends. Countless legends grew up around Liao after his death, and the people of Pali began to worship his spirit. In 1958, his small burial plot was converted into a huge temple. He has followers scattered far and wide, and every year on the special day appointed for making offerings at his temple (the 26th day of the 10th month of the lunar calendar), the grounds are packed with cars and visitors.

The Ko brothers, now in their 60s, recall their impressions of a visit to the Liao Tianding gravesite: "It must have been 30 years ago, we used to go there just for the fun of it. The road in front of the temple wasn't so wide then, and what a crowd! People were so jammed in you couldn't move." They also recall that the Pali of those days was a place in which most people lived by fishing, farming, or petty trading. The elder Ko gives a thumbs-up and declares: "That's why I always say that a can-do guy like Liao Tianding must be looking after us, so that we have developed and can even earn money from the tourists."

Yet, he may not know about Pali's real heyday, long in the past.

The days of the sailing ships

Pali was originally called Palifen, a transliteration of the place name used by the Ketagalan indigenous people. Located on the northwest corner of Taiwan, Pali faces the Taiwan Strait to the northwest, rests against Mt. Kuanyin to the southeast, and looks across the river toward Tanshui to the northeast.

Though it doesn't have much of a hinterland, its geographic location has proved historically important, as one can see from the prehistoric cultures unearthed at the Ta-pen-keng and Shih-san-hang archeological sites. Later, when Han Chinese began trickling across to Taiwan, they mainly settled along rivers. Because Pali is relatively close to the mainland and sits at the mouth of a river, despite the fact that it does not have a natural harbor, in 1757 the Qing court designated it to be one of Taiwan's small number of official ports for maritime transport with the mainland. Thus began an era in which great ships sailed in and out of Pali.

However, as a result of silting and a destructive typhoon that struck in 1796, Pali began to give way in importance to Tanshui, located just across the river. Once mainly dependent on fishing, Pali increasingly came to rely on farming. But the hilly terrain and strong winds meant that there was little good land. While the hardy people of Pali barely kept their stomachs filled, their children and grandchildren left in search of a better life. Neither the Japanese occupation (which began in 1895) nor the return to Chinese rule (in 1945) brought much joy or change to this rural area.

But in the 1970s, urban planning came to Pali. It proved to be the prelude to a symphony (or perhaps cacophony) of transformation.

Changing the rhythm of Pali life

During the height of real estate speculation and soaring land prices in Taipei, builders put up self-described "villas" and "mansions" (apartment blocks, in fact) one after another in Pali. Also, to try to reduce the outflow of population from Pali and to get the stagnant local economy moving, the government decided to link this formerly isolated village to the outside world. What had been Chungshan Road was turned into Provincial Highway #15, and the opening of the Kuantu Bridge to traffic linked Pali directly to the busy Taipei districts of Shilin and Peitou. Gifted with a lovely setting between the mountains and the sea, Pali began to dream of a tourism boom.

But fortune had other things in store. In order to pave the way for the construction of a water treatment facility on the northeast edge of Pali, the plan to develop tourism in Pali was scrapped overnight. The government, applying urban planning principles, zoned the area for residential and industrial use, in order to create a construction site for the facility.

Then in 1987 came the program to bring gravel from eastern to western Taiwan for construction purposes, and a harbor was built on the Pali coast for the convenience of gravel transporters. In accordance with the urban plan, new streets were cut this way and that through Pali's land, and high-rise buildings sprang up along the sides of these roadways. The sounds of backhoes at work resounded even from the black sand beaches.

In 1997, the Hsiachuotzu garbage landfill formally opened, and it became common to see fleets of garbage trucks winding through the streets of Pali. This rural township, which was made responsible for storing the garbage from several communities in Taipei County, seemed resigned to the fate (suffered by many outlying areas) of having to choke on the garbage spit up by others. It is only recently that the residents of Hsiachuotsu, unable to stand the smell, have begun to protest.

Lin Yi-hung, born and raised in Pali, stands on the roof of his house and looks across to the beach where he used to run and play as a child. He cannot help but sigh, as he looks at the ranks of new buildings and thinks of the dramatic changes that have come to this area: "These construction projects have destroyed the relationship we people of Pali used to have with the sea."

It's certainly true that a lot of people here thought they would get rich from the rezoning. But just because land increases in value doesn't mean someone will buy it, and just because apartment complexes are built doesn't mean there are people who want to live there. Worst of all, interpersonal relationships have been poisoned in the struggle over divvying up the profits, because no one really knows how much money is involved. Lin concludes: "I am not by any means opposed to development. But development is not necessarily the same as progress. Can the people of Pali really survive change of this magnitude?"

All part of the plan?

One after another, government development plans have raised the expectations of Pali residents. But so far the only things Pali folk have been able to enjoy have been flying dust from construction sites, roads filled with giant trucks, and new neighbors of an "otherworldly" kind. The new roads have certainly brought in a group of immigrants anxious to escape from Taipei City and return to nature. But at the same time, verdant Mt. Kuanyin-named for its uncanny resemblance to the deity Kuanyin-is covered with columbariums and cemeteries. Even Kuanyin, worshipped for her limitless compassion and mercy, must be creasing her brow at this rampant overuse of the mountain.

Chen Chien-kuo, a secretary in the Pali Rural Township government, says facetiously: "What can we do? We have the mountains behind us and the sea in front. People say the fengshui is good here, so they come." He adds, in a far less amused tone, that the government has been talking about making Mt. Kuanyin a national park for a long time, and has banned construction or use of the mountain. But after 30 years, the park plan is still a non-starter, and meanwhile many cemeteries and colum-bariums have "snuck in." "Nobody seems to care about our Pali, and we are very remote, so people just dump what they don't want out here. We say that this is why we not only have a water pollution treatment plant and a garbage landfill, but also five nursing homes and hospices for the terminally ill."

Take the Taipei Happy Mountain Colony for example. This venerable institution was first used to house leprosy victims, who met only fear and loathing elsewhere. In 1932, a British missionary founded this home-over the strong opposition of the local gentry-to offer leprosy victims a place to live in dignity and find warmth away from the cold outside world. Today, Happy Mountain is a home for physically and mentally challenged young people, and the simple old structure, surrounded by greenery, rings with the laughter of children.

Li Li-chuan, who works at Happy Mountain, was born and raised right here in Pali. Her family home is not far from the chil-dren's home. "When I was small I used to come here to play. All the adults called the kids 'empty-headed.' I was small, and didn't know any better, so I just called them that too." Stroking the head of a sleeping child with hydrocephalus, she says: "He is so cute when he smiles!"

Located on the margins of the island of Taiwan, the people of Pali take it in stride that they must live alongside the marginal people and objects cast off by society-waste water, trash, the deceased, and victims of diseases that society would prefer not to see at all. And there is no sign this situation will end: Reports now say that all the waste and earth being moved to Linkou for a land reclamation project there will be trucked along Provincial Highway #15-right through the heart of Pali.

Serving Greater Taipei

"I believe," says Lin Yi-hung, "that the people of Pali understand that this is just the way society works-the interests of the few are sacrificed so that the majority can be better off." Thus, in urban plans Pali is always assigned the role of serving Taipei. "But the government should think carefully about whether they are using the right methods or not. There are no real comprehensive policies, just short-term trade-offs of interests. There are a lot of great-sounding plans, but what do the people of Pali get out of them? It's like the port they built for transporting gravel. There are a lot of bright promises for the future, raising people's hopes, but who knows what the final result will really be?"

Chang Tsu-chou, now in his 70s, has been a secretary in the rural township government for more than 30 years, and loves Pali more than words can say. "I was first sent here to work in the Kuomintang Public Service Department. When I came here, they were only selling about 30 newspapers in all of Pali. But I went all out to promote newspaper sales, and by the time I left the department, they were selling more than 1000!" He has great confidence in Pali's future, and believes the new harbor will bring prosperity. "The government says that the first phase is for transporting gravel, but when the third phase is completed a lot of goods will be shipped in and out of here. At that time, Pali should really be hopping!"

Pali, known as "the home of green bamboo shoots" for its famous local vegetable, is-like many remote areas all over Taiwan-accepting the pain and enjoying the pleasures of life in the space between hopeful expectations and disappointing letdowns. And, being marginal, it also must live with burdens that the citizens themselves do not want. Uncertain whether to makes fists or open their arms, the people of Pali watch, perplexed, as the great wheel of our times leaves its tracks through their rural township.

Yet these are hardy people, who will always bounce back with a smile to face the unknown future, be it filled with troubles or glory.

Pali Facts and Figures

Pali Rural Township (also spelled Bali) is located at the northwestern edge of the Taipei Basin, on the western bank of the mouth of the Tanshui River. It has an area of 39.5 square kilometers and a population of just over 28,000. It is one of the 29 townships under the jurisdiction of Taipei County. Pali produces wax apples, green bamboo shoots, and wendan pomelo which are famous far and wide for their delicate texture and sweetness. In addition, Chinese raspberries and strawberry pears are now being cultivated, with promising results so far. The main attractions include the so-called "eight views of Pali," the ferry boat scenic tour, hiking on Mt. Kuanyin, Formosa Wonderworld theme park, and the Liao Tianding Temple. Pali is served by inter-city and local buses, or you can take a shuttle bus from the Kuantu Station of the Taipei rapid transit system. For more detailed information, visit http://www.bali.tpc.gov.tw/. (The above information is provided courtesy of Pali Rural Township Government.)