Xiahai City God Temple; Taipei 101; Not the Dr. Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall

Another afternoon in Taipei and another temple. This time it was the Xiahai City God Temple.

After that, I went to Taipei 101.

Then, I looked at, but didn’t go into, the Dr. Sun-Yat-sen Memorial Hall.

Let’s get going, shall we?

Xiahai City God Temple

The Xiahai City God Temple is another small temple, probably the smallest one I’ve seen on this trip so far. According to my guidebook, it was built in 1856 to house the City God statue that the losers in a feud took with them. I had no idea that cities had gods. I hope someone is praying to Toronto’s god for more affordable housing and better transit. A different provincial government would probably help too. However, I don’t know if city gods can change higher orders of government. But I digress.

Based on the picture I saw on Google Maps, the front of the Xiahai City God Temple is somewhat attractive if a bit rundown, with dragon decorations on the roof and some bright gold-on-red calligraphy on the front lintel facing out. I say “based on the picture…” because when I was there, two adjacent, arched red-and-white canopies that covered the entire small square in front of the temple blocked the view of it.

Underneath the canopy, there were tables set up selling a lot of stuff—incense, decorated fabric, flowers, fruits, and other snacks. I think they were being sold as offerings. I’ve seen that at other temples here, but generally not to the extent as at the Xiahai City God Temple.

I’ve read that it is part of Buddhism to leave such simple offerings in temples. And in Xiahai City God Temple, in front of the altar, was a long, silver-coloured table on which offerings already sat, and more were being added. Every once in a while, an attendant removed some and put them aside to make room for more.

I have no idea what happens to the offerings. Do they go to monks, who aren’t allowed to buy stuff for themselves, but rather must accept alms? Do the staff keep them? Does Buddha take them? Are they later resold as new offerings? I don’t know.

Inside, the Xiahai City God Temple is divided into two sections, side by side. At the front of the left side, there are a lot of colourful and some not-so-colourful statues on the altar. There are also a lot of painted and carved decorations where the colour gold, with reddish-brown framing, predominates over the altar.

In the room on the right side, there are three smaller altars. Two of the three are as colourfully decorated as in the larger room on the left side. There are also some signs telling visitors in three languages what blessings the three represented Buddhist entities deliver. “The Bodhisattva give (sic) you wisdom, peaceful minds and good fortune.” “The wife of the City God blesses married couples to have happy marriage and family.” and “Yi Yong Gong, the brave guards, are the heroes of the temple. They will keep all the wicked away, and give blessing to everything.” Sounds good to me. Thanks to all of them.

On the street beside the temple, there was a row of food stalls (for eating there, not for offerings) with their backs to the Xiahai City God Temple’s side wall. The one at the front of the row had the sign over it pictured here.

Google Translate told me that it translates to, “Mr. Swastika vegetarian food.”

I know that the swastika has been used as a symbol in a few Eurasian religions since long before the Nazis adopted it. So there’s probably a perfectly innocent explanation for the sign. Nevertheless, I know it’s irrational, but I don’t think I could ever be hungry enough to patronize that stall even if there were no food available for kilometres around, let alone miles around.

Taipei 101

Taipei 101 sounds like an introductory university course that studies urban planning or maybe city government in Taipei, doesn’t it? It’s not.

Taipei 101 is a 101-storey tower in Taipei. At one time, it was the tallest in the world. It’s not anymore. That’s the problem with trying to make the tallest, shortest, widest, lightest, heaviest, most beautiful, ugliest—or any other optimum—of any type of thing in the world. Eventually, someone’s going to beat you. Then where’ll you be? An also-ran. That’s where.

The first five levels of the tower, and maybe one or two subterranean levels as well, I’m not sure, is a shopping mall. If you’re in Taipei and have a lot more money than you know what to do with, this is where to go to alleviate your angst over having too much money. Or you could just give it to me. I have lots of angst. So I’ll hardly even notice one more.

The mall is filled with very high-end stores, along with a few midrange shops that aren’t prominent in the mall. Every international luxury brand you can think of probably has a branded store there.

There is an observation level on the 89th floor that you can buy a ticket for, and I did. The same ticket also gets you admission to the 88th and 91st floors. For an additional fee, of more than fifty percent of the base price, you can also gain access to the 101st floor. I asked the ticket desk what was up there. She said, pretty much the same, just a little higher. I didn’t bother.

The ticket desk and the elevator entrance to the top are on the fifth floor of the mall. I didn’t know it at the time, but there is a low-rise elevator near the ticket desk that goes from the ground or subterranean level up to the fifth floor. Because I didn’t know about it, I schlepped through the mall, taking escalators up. The escalators are staggered in the mall, so you have to go past a lot of the stores to get to the top.

The elevator from the fifth floor to the 89th floor is likely the fastest I’ve ever been on, by a long shot. It made that journey in the time that a normal elevator would probably climb maybe ten storeys. Slower-than-average elevators probably couldn’t even cover ten floors in that time. And yet, I couldn’t feel any jolt of acceleration.

There was a screen in the elevator that displayed the speed, but I’ve forgotten what the highest speed it attained was. A recording in the elevator suggested swallowing to equalize the air pressure in your ears. I could indeed feel the change in pressure in my ears, and I did swallow.

The 89th floor contains floor-to-ceiling windows on all sides. Some windows were obstructed with decorations, but most were clear. Unfortunately, there was some haze over the city, so my view (and pictures) weren’t the best, but it still offered spectacular panoramas.

The interior of the 89th floor held some cafés, a souvenir shop, a special exhibit that had something to do with North American Major League Baseball (I didn’t go in), and a booth where visitors could buy the photo that was taken of them at the base in front of a green screen that was used to superimpose a picture of Taipei behind them. I was unable to buy the photo because I refused to have my picture taken downstairs.

I had to take the stairs to go from the 89th to the 91st floor. You might be wondering what was on the 90th floor. I know I was. As I trudged up the stairs, there was a closed door on the 90th floor with a sign on it that said, in English, that it was an evacuation area. I have no idea, and I shudder to even think, what sort of emergency would require people to evacuate to the 90th floor of a 101-floor building.

On the 91st floor, there’s an outdoor observation deck that wraps around the building, but about half of it was roped off.

Around the edge of the deck, there is a tall fence of metal bars without a lot of space between them.

Taking a picture of the view without the distorting glass windows of the 89th floor required either pointing my camera lens through the bars or, as many people did, reaching my camera through the bars, and then putting my other hand through the next space over so I had both hands to hold and operate the camera. I tried both methods, but I was so scared when using the latter method that I would drop my phone 90 floors to the ground, that the pictures I took from up there weren’t very good.

To exit the building, you can’t take the elevator from the 91st or even the 89th floor. They make you walk down to the 88th floor to get on there. There’s not much on that floor other than the elevator lobby and the wind damper that they use to reduce the sway of the building.

It was after I exited from the observation deck elevator that I saw the low-rise elevator, so I was able to avoid the mall on the way out.

Not the Dr. Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall

Dr. Sun Yat-sen was the first provisional president of the Republic of China (Taiwan’s official name). There is a memorial hall commemorating him set in a small park. I decided to go and take a look.

By the time I got there, the sun was low and it was close to the normal closing time. That didn’t matter. Thanks to both Google Maps and Apple Maps, I already knew it was temporarily closed in my honour. Neither Google Maps nor Apple Maps said that I was the reason for the closure, but we all know that was true.

The building is large, impressive, and in what I think of as quintessential Chinese architecture. I don’t know why I think that. I don’t know much about Chinese architecture, but I’ve probably seen a few pictures.

The park isn’t large, but it’s refined and peaceful, with trees, a pond, and a statue of Dr. Sun Yat-sen.

There was a fence in front of the building with a small, computer-printed sign on it. The sign was only in Chinese, but Google Translate told me it said, “The construction area is fenced and restricted. Please do not break in at will.”

I know that “at will” can have a few different connotations, but I think of it as, generally, “on a whim.” So, if you carefully plan your entry to the site in advance, and later reluctantly execute your plan, is it then acceptable to break in?

Not knowing the answer to that question, I didn’t break in. I don’t want to end up in a Taiwanese jail.

Aside

Brave New World

This evening in my hotel, I took the elevator down to head out to a nearby restaurant for dinner. When the elevator doors opened on my floor, the contraption in the accompanying picture was already on the elevator. I thought it had an impatient look when I got on and until the doors closed again, but I might have been reading something into it that wasn’t there.

(The picture should appear to the right if you’re looking at it on a desktop with a not-too-narrow window, or maybe below otherwise. If you looked at the photo carefully, yes, I’m staying at the DoubleTree.)

There was a video display on the top of the robot. It displayed, in English, “Going to the second floor.”

When the elevator got to the second floor and the door opened, the robot’s display changed to, “Getting off the elevator.” And it did so arrogantly. But again, I might have been reading something into it that wasn’t there.

The hotel’s breakfast room is on the second floor. The permanent signs in the hotel label it as “all-day dining,” but a computer-printed sign in the restaurant says they’ve changed the hours to breakfast only. Sorry for the inconvenience.

I guess that’s where they prepare the room service meals, and I imagine the robot delivers them to the rooms. I haven’t had room service here yet, so I’m not sure.

(You can also eat in the small bar/lounge off the lobby. I think it’s the same menu as the room service menu. That’s where I had my beef noodle soup on my first night in Taipei.)

To paraphrase Shakespeare,

"O brave new world
That has such contraptions in't!"

I’m not sure how I feel about it, though.