A new trend is emerging in Taiwanese tourism: the hiring of a “writer in residence” to describe the charms of a particular locale. Among the results of these efforts are what amount to “new local gazettes” that, like the pieces of a mosaic, are slowly resolving into a comprehensive new take on Taiwan.
Author Wang Yuren, who writes under the pen name Kuling, is a case in point. His work on Dongju has turned the previously little-known islet into many people’s dream destination. Shu Guozhi’s portraits of Yilan, which he depicts as a “precious rural county,” have encouraged increased tourism there as well. But will this rural Yilan be drowned by the waves of visitors who have flooded it since the opening of the Xueshan Tunnel?
Kuling says that he felt very close to people while living on faraway Dongju Island. (photo by Jimmy Lin)
An Island to Fall in Love with—Dongju
In 2013, Kuling went to live and write on Dongju, a tiny island far from the shores of his mental mainland. As he put it, “Taiwan is an island off the coast of the Asian mainland; Matsu is an island off the coast of Taiwan; Dongju is an island off the coast of Matsu.”
Kuling shuttled between Taiwan and Dongju nearly nonstop from April to September, spending a total of two months on the island.
What made him choose to live on this small island, so far from the madding crowd? He says that it was part of his return to society after living alone in the mountains.
“There’s no one up in the mountains. You don’t have to deal with any interpersonal issues and you feel very much at peace. When I first returned to society, I found it very hard to relate to people and decided to spend some time on a sparsely populated island. Nobody on the island wanted anything at all from me, and I was able to spend some time there making new friends. It was a little like I was relearning how to behave properly with people.”
Kuling had been looking for an island with no 7-Eleven, Starbucks, or McDonalds, one both small and remote. When the Matsu Cultural Affairs Department happened to invite him to give a talk on Matsu, he found it and began his island living project the next year.
Dongju itself turned out to be a revelation: the 2.6- square-kilometer island has a beautiful coastline, gorgeous cliffs, and abundant wildlife, as well as a rich temple culture and a large number of traditional festivals.
This stepped gable makes a beautiful skyline. (courtesy of China Times Publishing)
Falling in love
“You have to spend some time in a place to fall in love with it,” says Kuling. “Travel is a bit like a blind date. But you can’t just go on dates for your whole life. If you’re going to have a chance of falling in love, you have to choose a place you like and invest some time there. You can only write about it after you’ve fallen for it. Otherwise, you’re just skimming the surface and making quick judgments.”
Kuling says that Dongju’s distinctive architecture, religious practices, and customs create an atmosphere different than that of Taiwan. The locals also tend to speak Fuzhou dialect, which can make visitors feel as if they’ve gone abroad. He found the island fascinating.
When Kuling first arrived, he stayed in the relatively populous Fuzheng Village, but he later moved to the nearly deserted Dapu Village. For a time, islanders speculated wildly about his decision to move. Some remarked that artists and writers are different than ordinary folk, while others wondered whether he had suffered something tragic.
“Dapu is actually prettier than Fuzheng,” says Kuling. He adds that it was once a prosperous fishing village that supported an opium den, brothel, and bar, and that parts of the film Ripples of Desire were shot here.
When asked if he was frightened living in such an isolated place, he says that ghosts never trouble him and the absence of other people left him feeling free to do exactly as he pleased. He particularly enjoyed strolling along the old fishermen’s road, and referred to a spot where he often used to rest by the picturesque moniker “Sitting-with-the-Wind Pavilion.” When tour guides brought visitors through the area, he’d hear them telling their clients: “Nobody lives in Dapu anymore except a writer named Kuling. If he’s free, he may come to the window and say hello.”
When he heard himself called, he’d rush to the window to wave and offer his regards. “I felt like I was the Pope!”
He spent his daylight hours aimlessly wandering the island, and his evenings recording what he’d seen and heard. By the time he left the island, he’d nearly completed his book.
Crafted by Dongju’s elementary-school students, this decoratively tiled wall has become a popular tourist attraction. (courtesy of China Times Publishing)
On top of the world
Kuling “steeped” himself in Dongju long enough that its people, sea, winds, flowers, and pavilions all became a part of him. His vivid descriptions moved many readers to visit the island with his book in hand, seeking to corroborate his depictions.
The book, An Outlier of an Outlier of an Outlier of an Island, has had an enormous impact on Dongju.
Visitors used to pass through quickly while visiting Matsu. Since the book’s publication, more and more travelers have been exploring Dongju in depth using Kuling’s book as a guide.
Readers wanting to take pictures of the house in Fuzheng where Kuling stayed used to have to ask locals for directions, but the township administration has since hung an address plaque on the home to make it easier to find.
The increasing number of visitors to Dongju has sparked envy on Dongyin, another island in the Matsu group: “Kuling is biased. He chose to write about Dongju rather than Dongyin, and now everyone’s going to Dongju!” Residents of Dongyin and Little Kinmen have extended invitations to Kuling in the hope that he will find time for an extended stay on their islands, too.
Kuling makes a habit of taking different friends with him each time he goes back to Dongju. The locals have accepted him as one of their own, and greet him warmly every time he visits.
“If you don’t have time to visit every island in the Matsu group, you can cover all your bases by visiting Dongju.” Kuling can’t help plugging the island, which he says has Dongyin’s rock formations, Nangan’s military tunnels and caves, and Beigan’s Eastern Fujianese architecture. “ Dongju is Matsu in miniature.”
Yilan is Shu Guozhi’s favorite part of rural Taiwan. Its view of Guishan Island is timeless.
Shu Guozhi’s Yilan
Author Shu Guozhi is known for constantly flitting from one place to another, and writing about this city or that country. Nonetheless, his book on Yilan is an unusually hefty tome.
“Yilan is a wonderful place, home to many of my own personal yearnings, as well as stolen glimpses, hidden scenic treasures and delicious foods,” writes Shu in the introduction to his A Glimpse of Yilan. He began exploring it in depth when the county’s cultural affairs bureau asked him to become a writer in residence. For the book, he wrote about the “beautiful old pastoral side of Taiwan” that he wanted to see preserved.
Yilan is Shu Guozhi’s favorite part of rural Taiwan. Its view of Guishan Island is timeless.
A rainy land
Shu spent about six months reading histories and other Yilan-related documents before and after his residency, and averaged about three trips per month to the county during it.
While Yilan’s residents often feel plagued by rain and poverty, the writer found a particular charm in them.
“Yilan used to be known as the rainy county. The misty atmosphere and verdant fields that the rain creates give rise to a nostalgic yearning in the people of Taipei, so I’m especially fond of this aspect of Yilan’s beauty.” For Shu, Yilan’s poverty also has a silver lining: “It’s this poverty that has slowed development and left Yilan with so many fields and orchards.”
He focused his Yilan romps on the county’s rural areas. “To me, Yilan’s most attractive feature is its scenery, and rural landscapes are the heart of this scenery.”
Rice fields, levies, villages, big trees, small bridges, country roads... all are therapeutic and nurturing in Shu’s eyes and in his writing.
He sees Yilan’s people as distinctive, too. “They are a country folk, and, like other rural people, are very cautious when they travel. It’s adorable.”
On the other hand, Shu spends hardly any time at all describing the wonders of the Lanyang Plain’s famed “eight sights” and “18 beauties.” “Those are classic tourist destinations. Take Guishan Island, for instance. It’s such a sacred island rising magnificently in the distance. How can reading about it take the place of seeing it for yourself? You never tire of looking at it.
“The Beiguan coast makes a nice view, but staring at the waves doesn’t compare to gazing at Guishan Island. But, regardless, Beiguan is a great location. Jinmian is wonderful, too. Looking out from the switchbacks as you come down into Yilan on the old mountain highway, you get fantastic vistas of the Lanyang Plain and Pacific Ocean.”
But Shu sees nothing unique about Yilan’s other “marquee” destinations.
Yilan’s rustic scenery is exceptional.
Food as “scenery”
Shu is something of a foodie, so it’s no surprise that he devotes a great deal of ink to Yilan’s cuisine, including dishes such as Yilan-style garlic stew, Luodong-style barbecued shaobing, Shennong sugarcane juice, and Chinese-mugwort-flavored glutinous rice buns.
He reserves particular praise for Yilan’s “dry” noodles. “The uniqueness of Yilan’s dry noodles stirs my sense of beauty.” Shu notes that although Yilan is very “Taiwanese,” its people are very fond of noodle dishes from mainland China. “Yilan’s chefs are very conscious of the water temperature when they put their noodles into the water.” Shu recalls watching the boss of a shop called Dugu Noodles (literally “dozing-off noodles” in Taiwanese) cook each bowl of noodles separately. “The waiting customers really were practically nodding off!”
Shu’s explorations have led him to think of Yilan as a wonderful rural backwater that is transforming into a place with a more urbane pace of life. But he worries about the rush to build “farmhouses.”
“Over the last two or three years, everyone has been scrambling to build ‘farmhouses,’ which is to say, country villas. As I was finishing up A Glimpse of Yilan, I almost couldn’t take it anymore. I’ve hardly been back since finishing the book. I just can’t bear to see the changes.”
“My original reason for writing about Yilan was because I find rural scenery and weedy, overgrown villages charming. Those charms have brought prosperity to Yilan. Naturally, there are any number of similar places around Taiwan. Hualien, Taitung, Miaoli, Zhudong, Sanyi, Pingtung... all of them have sights worth seeing.”
Shu Guozhi’s loving look at Yilan has helped others recall their own fond memories of quaint pastoral locales. Who says that paradises exist only in the distant past?
In Shu’s hands, delicious local snacks become part of the scenery. The photos show a pair of Yilan specialties: rougeng (a meat stew) and pepper buns.
In Shu’s hands, delicious local snacks become part of the scenery. The photos show a pair of Yilan specialties: rougeng (a meat stew) and pepper buns.
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