Time Traveler: Recent Episodes
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In Time Traveler, John Van Trieste takes you back into history. Get to know the events that have a profound impact on Taiwan, and get to know the people and places that made it all happen. So what're you waiting for? Get on the RTI time machine!
On the evening of March 31, 1980 at around 8:00pm, Wang Huimin is in a downtown Taipei office. A radio is on in the background, playing a news bulletin. She writes everything down, which may seem like a strange thing to do. But this wasn’t everyday news. The broadcast, aimed at Taiwan, was coming from communist China. Ms. Wang was part of a secret government project to listen in to these broadcasts. It sounds like the beginning of a pulpy spy novel. But this week, Ms. Wang will be using her job as a launch pad for something different: a personal recollection of the late years of martial law in Taiwan.
In the National Taiwan Museum, a replica of a battered old flag sits behind a glass panel. The right half is missing, but the form of a Chinese tiger staring defiantly upward still dominates the banner. At first, it seems a bit strange that this should be one of the museum’s great treasures- the tiger flag only flew over Taiwan for a few days in 1895. But it represents powerful ideas- resistance to invasion and the courage to carry on after the world shows that it has forgotten. And the question of whether the original flag survives is one of the ghosts of this period that hasn’t completely left us. Join us this week as museum researcher Li Zining guides us back to one of the most widely forgotten episodes in Taiwan's history.
We return this week to a sheltered bay in southern Taiwan. A massive army has been camped there for months. They have come to take possession of the island in the name of a man known to foreign writers of the age as Koxinga. Before he can take the place, though, he will have to finish off a determined rival. After several months, Governor Frederick Coyett is still holed up with the remains of a Dutch colony that has ruled the area for decades. They shelter in a fort called Castle Zeelandia. He is woefully outnumbered. He’s also plagued by incompetent bosses and treacherous subordinates. But he won’t surrender. Today, we’ll be continuing to explore the fall of Dutch Formosa and the minds of the two men behind it.
For much of the 17th Century, southern Taiwan was under Dutch rule. From its nerve-center in Batavia, today’s Jakarta, the Dutch East India Company ensured that its flag stayed planted on Taiwanese soil. It was a time rich with colorful characters- pirates, merchants, missionaries, and peasant rebels. It’s all perfect for drama as Llyn Scott know. She helped write and direct the radio drama series Tales of Dutch Formosa, a grand tour of the period based on historical records. Today, she’ll be telling us about the most dramatic episode in the whole series- the final one, when everything falls apart.
If you had told someone in 18th Century Europe that you had visited Taiwan, you would have to forgive them for either laughing or scowling at you. In 1704 a new book about Taiwan was published in London, An Historical and Geographical Description of Formosa, an Island subject to the Emperor of Japan. Its author is a man in his 20’s with strange habits who says he has come from Taiwan. But there’s a big catch.
The Sino-French War of 1884-1885 is now a more or less obscure conflict. It was fought over Vietnam- in other words, Taiwan wasn't the main objective, but it was sucked into the fighting anyway. Though generally forgotten among the other important events of the period, the war did leave a mark on Taiwan. This week, we'll be looking at the war's impact on Taiwan, but we'll also be getting a glimpse at what the conflict was like on the ground. Using the journal of British eyewitness John Dodd and the expertise of Ms. Li from Danshui's historical society, we are also going to revisit those weeks and months when French forces attempted to take one of northern Taiwan's chief ports.
Today, we're picking up on the story of Chiang Wei-shui, the doctor who some call "the Taiwanese Sun Yat-sen". In 1927, the world is changing quickly, especially for Chiang. His cultural association has fallen apart, but he hasn't given up. He and his associates decide to form a political party, the Taiwan People's Party. Surprisingly, after a few failed attempts at registering the party, the Japanese colonial authorities finally agree to one of their ideas! The Taiwan People's Party is Taiwan's first. With doctor, author, and cultural critic Lin Henje as our guide, we'll be looking at the final chapter of Chiang's colorful career and appraising his life's work.
In the middle of Taipei’s Ximending shopping district is a red-brick building that at first glance, seems out of place amid the LED signs and neon lights. But this is the Red House, the district’s beloved focal point, which still takes pride of place as one of the oldest buildings around. Since its construction 110 years ago, people have continued to find new uses for the Red House, and it remains one of Taipei’s most popular historic sites today.
There are a few places in Taiwan where layers of history come together in unexpected ways. Often, these are spots where buildings from one era are simple taken over and put to new uses in a later era. One of the most unusual examples of this historical recycling is in Taoyuan, in northern Taiwan. At the Taoyuan Martyrs’ Shrine, the two historical eras involved do more than just overlap- they clash. Today, we’re looking at a site where two successive- and deeply hostile- governments enshrined what mattered most to them.
In 1924, when Taiwan had been under Japanese colonial rule for just shy of 30 years, the colonial authorities put up a building in Taipei’s botanical garden. Unlike some of the monumental buildings put up by the colonial authorities in Taipei, this was a simple brick building of two stories, not something built to impress. However, inside this building, an important project was underway- a project to identify Taiwan’s plants and plot their distribution. This was the Taipei Botanical Gardens’ herbarium. Teams of researchers were sent out across Taiwan on surveying missions, charged with collecting plant samples from across the island. The plants they brought back were sent here for treatment, identification, cataloguing, and storage.
In an area of Taipei known as “book street” is a shop that’s grown more and more unusual over the years- a book shop. As many of the local book shops go, the Hong Ju Tang Book Company stands out more and more. In part, this is because the book store has been open since 1936. But this bookstore is also notable in that many of its books are in a foreign language- Japanese. Inside are many books that other stores in Taiwan would shrink away from selling- specialized Japanese books on different aspects of science and technology, for instance. But while it’s in a niche market, the store continues to march on even as many local, Chinese-language bookshops go under. How has the store made it for more than 80 years, and why does it continue to succeed? Here to share his thoughts is third-generation shopkeeper Huang Cheng-yeh.
To the north of Taipei is a scenic building with spaces available for artistic and cultural events to rent out. For a fee, you can arrange to get your wedding photos taken here too. From the outside the official English name of this place, the “Grass Mountain Chateau”, may seem a bit overwrought. You certainly won’t find any of the stone towers or vineyards you’d associate with a chateau here. But while low-key, this building is in one of Taiwan’s most beautiful spots, on the misty and hot spring-filled flanks of Yangming Mountain. And while there are few signs of it today, the chateau was once deemed fit for royalty, and has hosted some of the most important figures of Taiwan’s modern history. Here w to discuss the chateau and its important guests is Lu Kuo-bin, the site’s director.
In cities around the world, there are many historic buildings that have fallen into disrepair. Some are remnants of an industry whose time has come to an end. Others are victims of circumstance, places whose occupants just moved on. Cities might choose to condemn these old buildings and turn the land over to other uses. But one complex of buildings in central Taipei, the Huashan 1914 Creative Park, shows that there is another way. This place demonstrates that not only can old buildings be brought back to life, they can also become a centers of art, culture, and tourism.
There are some buildings that come to define an era. In the southern city of Tainan, for instance, when people think of the 1930’s, the grand old Hayashi Department Store comes to mind. When it was opened in 1932, it was the talk of the town. At five stories high, it was the tallest building around. And its triangular facade, jutting out assertively, seemed to be pointing towards the future. Inside were wonders then unheard of in southern Taiwan. The latest fashions, luxury goods, and exotic cuisines all beckoned. And though few could afford the prices, anyone could go in and take a look around.
Mention the town of Yingge to anyone from Taiwan, and you may soon find yourself in a discussion about pottery and ceramics. There are towns across Taiwan famous for all sorts of local products, but in Yingge, a short way outside Taipei, it is pottery and ceramics that have built up the local reputation. Today, the suburban area is home to a range of studios producing wares for everyone from the local day tripper looking for a souvenir to the serious collector with serious cash to spare. The town’s ceramic shops and professional studios are largely concentrated around one street, with Taiwan’s only ceramics museum not far away. In historical terms, Yingge’s ceramics boom is quite recent. But there is a story here to be told, and here this week to help me tell it is Chen Pao-chen, Deputy Director of the New Taipei City Yingge Ceramics Museum. During our discussion today, Ms. Chen will explain how Yingge came to be so closely linked with ceramics. She will also walk us through the ceramics museum and remind us that ceramics belong as much to the future as to the past.
Not far from RTI’s studios, are the remnants of an ancient habitation, a prehistoric site where people lived thousands of years ago. The site covers many cultural layers, built up on top of one another over millennia as styles of pottery and other everyday objects came and went. One of the many layers in this record, stands out, though. It’s unlike anything that came before it in Taiwan, and perhaps because is so distinctive, it shares a name with the site as a whole. This is the layer belonging to the Yuanshan Culture, which was spread across much of northern Taiwan around 3000-2500 years ago. But the Yuanshan Site is far older than that. Settlement at the site goes back 5000 years or more, and the Yuanshan Culture wasn’t the first or even the second culture group to leave traces there. What about the Yuanshan Culture is special then? What about it represents such a break with the past? To find out, I’ve spoken with researcher Lee Kun-hsiu of the National Museum of Prehistory.
For decades, anyone in Taiwan who wanted to learn English had only one place to turn. For whole generations of people here, the works of author Ke Chi-hua were trusty friends, guiding the way through the tangled world of English grammar. It is for these bestsellers, published starting around 1960, that many Taiwanese people today remember Ke best. But Ke was a man of staggering talent, whose literary output included books in multiple languages, novels, and poetry. He was also a man whose life was full of tragedy.
For generations of Taiwanese people, the book “A New English Grammar” by Ke Chi-hua was a trusty sidekick. There had never been anything like it in Taiwan before- a systematic, no-nonsense guide to the the English language that demystified its inner workings so that even schoolchildren could make sense of them. Its revised editions and sequels went on to be bestsellers too, and through the whole middle of the 20th century, Ke Chi-hua’s English textbooks were the preferred option for Taiwanese students looking to master the language. After so many decades of use, these books have achieved an iconic stature as something everyone over a certain age will remember.
At 109 years old, the National Taiwan Museum is Taiwan’s oldest museum and one of its most venerable institutions. Since 1908, the museum has been a center of natural history, anthropology, geology and other fields of study in Taiwan. Its current home, completed in 1915, was one of the chief landmarks of Taipei under Japanese colonial rule. It was built to impress, and especially after an extensive restoration project finished in November, it still does. But while the museum’s core mission of showcasing Taiwan’s people and nature has never changed, its precise aims and the means it uses to showcase Taiwan have. As the museum celebrates its reopening, I’m speaking with assistant museum researcher Lin Yi-hung about the museum’s past and about plans for its future.
During the more than 200 years of imperial Chinese rule, few people from Taiwan rose to the prominence achieved by Wang Delu. Through a military career that spanned the late 18th and early 19th centuries, Wang helped the Qing Dynasty put down rebels and smash the pirates that plagued the empire’s coast. He received imperial favor and at the end of his life came out of retirement to defend the empire against foreign aggression. Wang was born and is buried on Taiwan’s southwest plain in the town of Taibao, Chiayi County. The town is named in Wang’s honor, “Taibao” being a high imperial title that was bestowed on him during his lifetime. Taibao is also notable for being home to the National Palace Museum’s Southern Branch, which opened there in 2015. The career of this proud local son is the subject of an ongoing exhibit at the museum, called “Wang Delu and the Tongan Ship”. Here to tell us more about Wang Delu and the museum’s look back at his life is assistant researcher Wang Chian-yu.
The Presidential Office Building in Taipei is an elegant brick building with a tall central spire that has served as the office of the presidents of Republic of China since 1950. The building's architects never imagined it would be used for this purpose, though, nor did they imagine that the flag of the Republic of China would one day fly from its spire. This week, we look at the story of the Presidential Office Building, a Taipei landmark whose meaning has changed through Taiwan's modern history.
In the WWII-era remains of a Japanese shrine sits an homage to one of Taiwan’s most historic cities. Chiayi, in Taiwan’s southwest, can trace its past over several centuries, through siege, colonization, disaster, and industrialization. Here in these historic surroundings is what’s now the Chiayi City Historical Relic Museum, where the objects that tell this city’s story are housed. Joining us today to share this story is Wang Yung-shen of the Chiayi City Cultural Affairs Bureau.
In 2012, work on a highway in northeastern Taiwan led to a discovery. There, near a worksite, were the the remains of an ancient village, inhabited over a thousand years ago. Excavations began, and archaeologists assembled a picture of sophisticated people linked into a trading network that reached beyond Taiwan’s shores. The village is called the Hanben Site in Chinese. But it is also known as Blihun, a traditional name for the surrounding area that means “doorway” in the indigenous Atayal language. This year, artifacts unearthed from the site are the focus of an exhibit called “Blihun recovered, reconstructed, reappeared”. The exhibit is housed at the Lanyang Museum, a major museum also in northeastern Taiwan that focuses on local history and ecology. Here to walk us through the site as well as through the exhibit is Chu Cheng-yi, an archaeologist who worked extensively at Blihun.
A battle against Communist invaders at the start of the Cold War puts Taiwan's frontline defenses to the test on the outlying island of Kinmen. Which side will prevail?
Chen Cheng-po, or Tan Ting-pho, is one of the greatest painters Taiwan has ever produced- and also, the Taiwanese painter with the most tragic story of all. Learn about his life's work and the way he immortalized in southern Taiwanese hometown on canvas.
No history of Taiwanese art would be complete without Kuo Hsueh-hu. Come take a journey back in time to the period when the artist was at his height and look at the works that have made him a legend of the Taiwanese art world.
Join us today as we look at the story of the first person from Taiwan to take to the skies.
On the 27th of June 2015, colored cornstarch powder used for party effects during “color play” party in New Taipei City, burst into flames. 15 people died and over 470 were injured.
Today, architect Chen Jen-ho is not part of Taiwan's mainstream consciousness. Many people here haven't heard of him. But he likely wouldn't have minded, and for as little as some people know about him, his work had an outsized impact on Taiwan's landscape. Now, a new exhibit at the National Taiwan Museum is trying to bring attention back to this modernist master, whose buildings were functional, everyday affairs but didn't skimp on imagination.
In 1949, waves of soldiers and their families descended on Taiwan. They had been pushed from their homes in Mainland China, exiled by communist advance. In the end, Taiwan became their home. At first, they'd thought of the housing blocks put up for them as temporary lodgings, but decades later, when it came time to demolish them, it seemed almost a shame. Clusters of these blocks, called military dependents' villages, had become a new kind of community with a unique culture. This week, join a former resident of one of these villages for a tour of a preserved piece of one village in Kaohsiung.
What's in an education? How has your education made you who you are today? These are questions posed in a new exhibit at the National Museum of Taiwan History. Last week, we got an overview of more than a century of education in Taiwan. But this exhibit doesn't just plod through history. It looks at what children thought about their educations. There are real examples of bored doodles and infractions of uniform rules. And there are also essays on what children decades ago hoped for their futures. Join us again this week for another dive into this exhibit.
What goes into an education? What should the goals of an education be? Do ideas about education change much over time? These are some questions that may come to mind if you visit a new exhibit at the National Museum of Taiwan History. This exhibit traces the story of modern education in Taiwan- but with a bit of a twist. Join museum curator Chang Ying-chih this week for an overview of more than a hundred year's worth of school days in Taiwan.
Today we explore one of the finest collections of historic buildings anywhere in Taiwan- the compound of the illustrious Wufeng Lin family. Last week, with one of the family's ninth-generation descendants as our guide, we met some of the family's high-flying ancestors. This week, we meet their legacy- priceless buildings and one of Taiwan's most acclaimed gardens. This isn't just a story of wealth and glory, though. We'll also hear of the disaster that nearly wiped this legacy away.
Few families in Taiwan’s history have reached the illustrious heights that the Lin’s of Wufeng have. With their wealth and influence, they stood center stage in three eras of Taiwan’s history on the battlefield, in officialdom, and in the cultural realm as well. Their mansion and garden is one of Taiwan's greatest pieces of cultural heritage too. Today, Mr. Lin, a ninth-generation descendent of the oldest family member to settle in Taiwan, joins us for a look at his distinguished forebears.
Indigenous peoples in Taiwan's southwest have a long history of literacy. Long before other groups were writing, these peoples were drawing up contracts and negotiating a place for themselves in a part of Taiwan where rule by outsiders also arrived early. What do these documents tell us about indigenous history? Join researcher Lee Jui-yuan for a look at these papers, together known as the Sinckan Manuscripts.
The town of Daxi was once among northern Taiwan's most wealthy. But when the boom times ended, the town's grand buildings faced hard times. Today, they've been fixed up and returned to their original state thanks to the work of the Daxi Historic Neighborhood Reconstruction Association. This week, the association's Li Yilan joins us for a look at the town's ornate old buildings that still attract tourists today.
The art of lacquerware is not native to Taiwan, but it does have a long history here. With rare objects from its collection, a new exhibit at the Kaohsiung Museum of History traces the story of lacquerware in Taiwan.
What can ten objects from Kaohsiung's early history tell us about the southern port city? A new exhibit at the Kaohsiung Museum of History attempts to find out.
When it comes to culture and history, few places in Taiwan can compete with the southern city of Tainan. The place has long fascinated local and outsiders, but it wasn't until the 20th century when people began taking new sciences and disciplines and seeing what new information they could yield. A new exhibit at the National Museum of Taiwan History looks back on early pioneers of what could be called "Tainan Studies".
Historical preservation comes in many flavors. Some people work to restore old paintings or conserve old books. There are trusts that maintain old buildings. And in Taiwan, there are even those devoted to preserving old tiles. In the early 20th century, colorfully-painted tiles were a status symbol in some parts of Asia, above all in Taiwan. Here, they loudly declared that a family had made its fortune. Over the past few decades, though, many of the homes that once proudly sported these tiles have faced demolition. The buildings may be beyond saving, but the tiles, at least, can be rescued. For around 20 years, one group of volunteers has been saving tiles from around Taiwan. In 2015, they even opened a museum, The Museum of Ancient Taiwan Tiles. Mr. Hsu is one of these volunteers. He’s here to introduce these tiles and explain what it was that got him hooked on them.
During the 1920’s, Taiwan’s intellectuals came together. Their goal: to bring new ideas, knowledge, and values into Taiwan and diffuse them into Taiwan’s society. Together, they led what’s become known as the Taiwan New Cultural Movement, employing art, education, and entertainment in an effort to bring Taiwan into a new era. Though the Pacific War brought the movement to an end, the new culture of the 1920’s and those who strove to spread it are still remembered in today’s Taiwan. After years of preparation, a new museum devoted to the movement- the Taiwan New Cultural Movement Memorial Hall- opened this month in the same part of Taipei where it all started. Over the next two weeks, museum head Hsu Mei-hui will be walking us through the story of the movement. She’ll tell us about its founders, its ideals, and its methods, and about the new exhibits meant to introduce the movement to new generations.
The island of Kinmen lies close off the coast of Mainland China. It is one of the island outposts that remained under the control of the Republic of China after the Chinese Civil War, when communist advance pushed the government across the sea onto Taiwan. But while Kinmen remained outside communist control, its position as a bulwark so close to communist areas made it a flashpoint, a place where the Cold War got hot more than once. From August 23, 1958 into October that same year, Kinmen came under an intense period of fire from communist positions. This period of conflict is known in Taiwan today as the 823 Artillery Bombardment, and this year, Taiwan is marking 60 years since it erupted. To coincide with this anniversary, the Armed Forces Museum here in Taipei is putting on a special exhibit on the bombardment, set to run into early December. Here with us this week to introduce this exhibit is museum director Colonel Lin Chien-ju. With military precision, she’ll be giving us facts and figures about the fighting, and also explaining why this conflict was so important for Taiwan’s history.
If you’ve flown in or out of Taiwan’s main international gateway, Taoyuan International Airport, over the last two months, you might have noticed a collection of maps on display in Terminal Two. Ranging over centuries from the early modern period to our own time, these maps include a common element- Taiwan. This is “The Imagined Island, Images of Taiwan, Taiwan Mambo”, a curiously titled exhibit recently put on in the airport by the National Museum of Taiwan History. Just before the exhibit closed at the end of September, I managed to get in touch with the museum’s Hsiao Hsuan-chu, who prepared the text that accompanied the maps. He joins us today to discuss the imagination that went into mapping Taiwan in the past, to introduce some of the maps featured in the exhibit, and to explain the dancelike way Taiwan has moved on maps over time.
Since 1914, when the first recording of Taiwanese music was made, Taiwan’s recording artists have navigated decades of changing trends and politics. In this three-part series, we’ve been exploring the history of Taiwan’s recorded music with expert Huang Yu-yuan, a researcher at the National Museum of Taiwan History. We’ve heard the story of recorded music’s early decades here. We’ve followed the arrival of foreign musical styles, met some of the early recording artists, and even heard a few of the early songs people still remember. So far, our look back at musical history has seen us in the early 20th century, a period when Taiwan was ruled as a Japanese colony. This week, we arrive in 1945, the year both WWII and Japanese rule ended. At war’s end, the Republic of China took control of Taiwan, and Taiwan’s musical history entered a new phase.
Since 1914, when Taiwanese performers sat down to record their first gramophone records, Taiwan has grown a robust music industry. Through years of changing fashions, Taiwan’s artists have kept creating work for the people of their time- and ours- to enjoy. People here have no trouble remembering the big songs and the big singers of the past. But when it comes to the lives of the stars, the ways music was recorded, and the places where people once listened to music, memories can get a little fuzzy. For questions about these forgotten parts of Taiwan’s musical past, you need an expert. Luckily, we’ve found one in Huang Yu-yuan, a researcher specializing in recorded music at the National Museum of Taiwan History. In this three-part series, Mr. Huang is taking us back into Taiwan’s musical archives, sharing the best-loved songs, and unwrapping the stories behind the music.
It’s been over 100 years since Taiwan’s musicians started recording their music. From their first gramophone record, they’ve moved through many recording formats and decades’ worth of fashions, both foreign and local. They’ve also weathered years of censorship to arrive in an era of free expression. Many people in Taiwan can point you to the famous songs and singers of the past, and tell you which songs were once banned. But the details are often fuzzy. What was the first Taiwanese record? How did the stars live and perform? And why were certain songs banned but not others?
In the early 20th century, Taiwanese photography came into its own. The photographers of the age came from different walks of life- photographers, to be sure, but also doctors and camera shop owners. Their subject matter varied widely too- from indigenous villages and temple fairs to logging camps and intimate portraits. But together, from the turn of the century to just past the end of WWII, they picked up cameras and captured the Taiwan they saw around them. In Taiwan, this was an age before photographic film. The medium these photographers worked in was dry glass plates. The National Taiwan Museum is showcasing works by nine of Taiwan’s dry glass plate photographers in an ongoing exhibit called “The Mirror of Time”. Last week, the exhibit’s curator, Chang Tsang-sang, introduced us to the life and work of five of these artists. This week, he’s back again to introduce us to the rest. He’ll also tell us about just how lucky we are to have these photos still with us today.
Photography came to Taiwan in the 19th century. As early as 1869, American St. Julian H. Edwards had begun to document a range of Taiwanese landscapes. During this period, in the final decades of imperial Chinese rule over Taiwan, it was outsiders like Edwards who took pictures of the island. They came with heavy carts of equipment and early techniques, including one process that required the use of egg whites. In the early 20th century, though, Taiwanese people, too, began to take up cameras and turn their lenses to the Taiwan they saw. Their medium of choice was dry glass plate photography.
The Kavalan are one of Taiwan’s indigenous peoples. They live in communities dotted down parts of Taiwan’s east coast. Officially, they number around 1500. These are basic facts and statistics, the sort of thing anyone can look up online. But the few seconds it may take to come up with this information masks the 15 years of effort it took to win government recognition and be included in official counts. The Kavalan were long hidden in obscurity, but their campaign to recover their culture and win official status succeeded, getting them instated as Taiwan’s 11th indigenous group. The story of the Kavalan people and their struggle for recognition is being retold in an exhibit at the Institute of Yilan County History. It’s called “Kavalan Aimi”, which means “We are the Kavalan”. With us to discuss the exhibit is the institute’s Li Su-yueh.
The southern city of Kaohsiung is home to a new museum. Since opening in March this year, The Center of Old Fongshan City History has taken visitors back in time through the story of a major local historic site- an imperial Chinese fortification nearly 200 years old. Unlike other walls from Taiwan’s period under imperial Chinese rule- places like Taipei’s old city walls- this fortification is still partially standing, highlighting the military past of an area whose military importance has never faded. The museum, though, isn’t just about these old walls. It presents the history of Taiwanese forts in general, and it also covers the story of what has happened to this fort in the years since imperial rule ended. With us today to introduce the old fort and its new museum is Wang Hsing-an of the Kaohsiung Museum of History, one the new museum’s parent organizations.
For hundreds of years, the glove puppet theater has been a staple of mass entertainment in Taiwan. It’s a wonderfully adaptable form, suited to performances before gods at temples and before us mere mortals at public shows. It leaps seamlessly across boundaries, equally at home on stage and screen as well as the outdoor venues where it got its start. And the imagination’s the limit as far as content is concerned. Glove puppet theater is perfect when it comes to presenting swashbuckling martial arts stories. But in the hands of a true master, glove puppets are just as good at contemporary drama or teaching children to say no to drugs.
Chiayi County in Taiwan’s south is home to the southern branch of the National Palace Museum. Since this branch opened in 2016, it’s become a place many people associate with art from the Asian mainland, from Japan to India. But while many headline exhibits do show works from beyond Taiwan’s shores, this museum is also deeply committed to showcasing what’s right in its own backyard- quite literally in some cases.
Around 120 years ago, a Japanese scholar called Ino Kanori arrived in Taiwan. He came with a keen interest in the people who lived here, a sharp, observant eye, and a goods pair of legs that carried him from one end of the island to the other. Like many historical figures, his life isn’t without controversy, but his works on many areas of Taiwan’s anthropology were firsts. A new exhibit at the National Museum of Taiwan History puts Ino Kanori’s experience of Taiwan into focus, looking back at the roughly ten years he spent here. Joining us on the line to look at Ino Kanori and his work is museum curator Hsu Mei-yun.
For generations, Taiwanese people looking for entertainment had to look no further than their local book rental shop. Through decades with no internet and with few TV or movie options, and during a time in Taiwan’s past when money was tight and books pricey, these shops offered a way to take a good read home at an affordable price. While mentioning the titles of books these shops once offered may get you blank looks from younger people, there are still plenty of people who will react warmly, reminded of characters they met during leisurely hours of reading long ago. The nostalgia of these shops is captured well in "My Fantasy Book Rental Store", a recently opened exhibition at the National Museum of Taiwan History in Tainan. Joining us on the line today to introduce the exhibit is museum curator Liu Wei-ying.
Taiwan is a small place blessed with a huge variety of landscapes. In a relatively tight space, you can find deep snowy mountains and alpine forests alongside rocky ravines, swampy coastal marsh, and warm, sunny beaches. The scattered islands governed from Taiwan are small but varied too, set amid both brisk marine climates and high seas as well as languid, tropical waters rich with tropical marine life. Through its recorded history, Taiwan’s beauty has never been much of a secret. The old European name for the island, Formosa- we’re constantly told- means beautiful in Portuguese, a sign that outsiders admired this beauty even centuries ago. But the ideas of national parks and conservation didn’t emerge in Taiwan until the early 20th century. Today, we’re taking a look at how Taiwan got its national parks.
The mountainous area of Taoyuan called Cihu has a long association with Chiang Kai-shek. The late president fell in love with these mountains soon after retreating to Taiwan at the end of the Chinese Civil War. Supposedly, this place bears a striking resemblance to his hometown. After coming to Taiwan, he spent many days at Cihu, and photos and detailed information about his life in his retreat there are on display at Cihu’s visitors' center. What fewer people have seen, though, is Houcihu, or “back Cihu”, a secretive place close by. Inside, offensive military plans were discussed, and preparations were made in case the Cold War turned hot and Taipei fell. Even today, open for the public to explore, the 600-visitor-a-day limit continues to give the place an air of secrecy. Here to open up what secrets we can is Lee Chuang-bin, a veteran tour group leader at the site.
In 1709, people who’d arrived on Taiwan from China’s Fujian Province staked out a new home along a riverfront area in what’s now Taipei. They were the founders of Bangka, a town that took its name from a word meaning “wooden canoe” in language of the Ketagalan people indigenous to the area. From these beginnings, the town grew, until it was eventually absorbed by the modern city of Taipei. During its centuries of development, the town has seen its share of important historical buildings built as well as its share of excitement. This week, we’re going to look at the story of Bangka, also known in Mandarin as Wanhua, and visit some of the historical landmarks to be found there.