JIUFEN, JINGUASHI, NEW TAIPEI CITY, TAIWAN

2016-07-26, 9:59, JASON

BUDGET, STAY: FIRST STOP HOSTEL - JIUFEN

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Town categorization in Taiwan is difficult to coordinate with this blog as they've split up the administrative regions into cities, districts, and towns. But, I can't imagine that Taiwan is the only country that does this. Although our blog has largely classified on the city level, most of the places we visit in Taiwan won't actually be formally cities, but rather general areas that we have been to and have categorized as 'cities'. We try to delineate these areas we've visited separately so it's easier to reference. Usually we'll tend to put markers on places we've been, which tend to generally be cities, but that's not always the case. For example, both Jiufen and Jinguashi are technically in New Taipei City, but if we put them under a table of contents for New Taipei City, then it's difficult to know if we've been to Jiufen or Jinguashi unless you had knowledge that these towns were under New Taipei City. So, do you really care about this? Probably not. It's more of a mental note than anything for ourselves.

If you've made it through that laborious introduction, you're ready for the real bit:

Jiufen (九份) and Jinguashi (金瓜石) are in New Taipei City, and are two towns that are often visited via one day trip by Taiwanese and foreigners alike. They are both mining towns, meaning the Japanese have established factories and various mining-related machinery and mechanisms, but most of the infrastructure has turned into tourist attractions. They fell out of popularity in the late 80s when the mining industry collapsed, but have gotten a recent resurgence of tourism due to the film industry. Jinguashi has remnants of the mining industry, from factories to waterfalls. Jiufen is known for its old street and food culture. A famous film was shot here in the 90s, and of course, Hayao Miyazaki's Spirited Away film draws inspirations from the famous tea houses that sprinkle the small streets. In fact, I'm listening to his and Joe Hisashi's piano soundtrack as I type this. I'm also in a cafe in Taipei, so you know, I've become one of those writers. The two towns are about 10 minutes apart by driving, and, again, it's hard to capture them under one label, so I've kept them separate.

Getting in is quite easy if you can make it past the bus drivers that'll give you a rough time. Countless times I've just asked them a question about whether the bus is correct, or if the route is right, or for them to remind me when I'm going to arrive. All times, I was greeted with bitterness. Actually, I met a French girl in Jiufen who said that they were generally nice. What it comes down to, I think, is that if you speak the language they feel more comfortable bitching you out in it. But, fair enough. They deal with people all day in a profession where dealing with people can get extremely annoying: the same questions, the same answers. You try to approach them with a soft accent and a tone of sincerity but they can smell right through your facade. So, I don't take it too personally -- perhaps a little -- then I move on. As long as you get to where you're going. Plus, if my theory holds true, maybe I've earned my stripes speaking fluent enough Mandarin to sound somewhat local. Toot toot, sound of my own horn TOOTIN.

The bus stop you get off has all the charm of a small bus station in the countryside. It's the local police station, surrounded by a HiLife (popular convenience store), and not much else. Across the road, a large pagoda-shaped gate, to which I enter the hostel. The view is amazing. Since Taiwan is an island and mountainous, you get many towns that are built on the hillside that overlook the ocean. It's the equivalent of San Torini, but more green on the hills, with houses tucked sporadically among the green. The hostel has a great view right outside of it, with plenty of space in between. And, it has the pecularity of a Taiwanese hostel. There are labels for everything, from everything you can use to everything you're meant to do. "Please do not throw toilet paper down the bin, throw it into the toilet." "Please do not use hairdryer for too long, otherwise will overheat. You break it, you pay it." Actually, I found this an interesting cultural tidbit, in which there is little ambiguity in how things are supposed to be used. There are very great benefits to this, especially when it comes to their trash: recycling of X, Y, Z goes here, and everything else goes here. They're, thus far, the most eco-friendly country I've seen, and generally very big on conservation. Compared to European hostels, it's a lot more rigid in terms of use, but what I noticed too is their intricacy in detail towards the overall hostel experience. There is a small alcohol dispenser on the side of the toilet for disinfectant for each use. There are small coils to rid of the mosquitoes as well as 'air fresheners' that will rid the room of mosquitoes. It's this focus of detail that make the hostel enjoyable. There's something for everything. 

The hostel owners are lovely. Two women, probably in their late twenties or early thirties. They take about 30 minutes to detail all activities in the Jiufen / Jinguashi area. They're hope is to instill some stronger tourism here; that there's more to do here than just visit the Old Street in Jiufen and leave, which is what most people do. And, they're sincere in their endeavor. They give a suggested route for me to accomplish and I set off to do it. So, what was it?

Take the 865 to 金黃瀑布 (Golden Waterfall). From there, walk down and follow the copper river to the old smelting factory, then toward the coast of 陰陽海 (Yin Yang Sea). From there, take the same 865 bus to 南雅 (Nanya) area and check out the 冰淇淋岩 (Ice Cream Rocks). Once done, head back into the central bit and check out the 黃金傳物館 (Gold Museum area). After that, go to 九份老街 (Jiufen Old Street) to get some delicious snacks, as it closes largely around 7pm. If I was still feelin up for it, I could go around and go to a tea ceremony at night. I'll write along these lines and put my thoughts in at each step.

First, the bus took about 1.2 hours to arrive, and I was convinced that it was never going to come. The store owner of the HiLife next to the polic station must have thought I was just enjoying standing outside their shop. Eventually, it showed and was packed since it's the main tourist bus that is cheap and runs through the Jiufen sites that I want to visit. I ask the uncle to buy a day pass worth 50 NTD, and he agrees. Most people don't know about the day pass, and have just relied on using their Easycard to get by. A good tip for future travelers. Eventually, we arrive at the golden waterfall. Luckily, the weather was good so the sun reflecting on the rocks actually made it look golden. The hostel owners explained to me that the chemicals flowing through the water reacted with the rock, producing a distinct ore coloration on anything the water passed by. As such, the entire rock formation beneath the water had been tainted a slight gold. There something charming about the contrast of the yellow-orange against the green hills and blue sky really make the river stand out. Walking down from the waterfall to the seaside, you could notice this copper tint of most of the rock, as well as some cro-bars and iron rods that had been dumped into the river. The town, again, has a very small town charm to it. I'm sure most people there don't even care about the river that's been flowing for their whole lives. It's something that is of super importance to tourists, only. To locals, it's simply just another river; another legacy of the Japanese here. It still makes for great pictures: 

When you reach near sea level in the span of about 15 minutes, you look up and notice the 水湳洞精鍊廠 (Shuinandong Smelting Factory) ,a factory where they used to purify the gold they extracted from these mountains. It's a bit daunting, placed atop a series of stepped lawns that span very widely, overlooking the ocean, fallen into disrepair. Unfortunately, they haven't restored it so you can't go into the original skeleton, rather, just appreciate it from the outside. The same people that took my picture for the waterfall must have been doing the same route as me, and so I asked them for a second time to take a picture, to which they happily obliged. They were my first tourist friends in all of Jiufen / Jinguashi. Turns out, they were from Taizhong and just visiting for a weekend. "No wonder they were so nice..." They couldn't have been from the big city, Taipei. 

About a 2 minute walk from the bottom of the smelting factor, you can peer over into the Yin Yang sea after crossing the highway. At this moment, you realize how much of a mining town it was. Actually, despite it being on the tourism trail, there weren't that many visitors here, perhaps because they feel it's a place to stop and take pictures, and then move to the next area. It's away from the bustle of the Jiufen Old Street, away from the waterfall, and beneath the shadow of the smelting factory. It's the same sea it's been, just tainted a different color from the same water that has tainted the rocks into gold. But, what about it was so moving? It's not so much when I looked out into the sea, but when, after you appreciate the interesting water color, you turn around and look back onto the mountain. There it is, the smelting factory, the dormitories for the workers, all fallen into disrepair. The highway that runs along the coast that I just crossed, with trucks passing by still, and I'm alone, standing there with the sound of waves behind me. You can imagine what this place was before it became even an attraction, probably not even worth stopping by, since it was a mining town. The toxic fumes pumping out of the factory from the extraction of gold in these mountains would deter most people from even stopping by. Yet, the reason people may have been deterred in the past to come here is the exact reason that had drawn me there that day -- that at some point it was a mining town, and that people have worked here, lived here, died here, and have made a piece of history without even knowing it. There's an odd silence that blows past from the seabreeze coming in behind me, and I'm deeply moved by this scrappy building looming in front of me. 

I walk back to the bus stop and wait for another hour for the tourist bus to arrive. Across from me is a small foot path that goes above the golden river and I can hear a gentle trickle while I wait under the wooden bus stop. A trickle of sweat precipitates down my neck. The 865 comes, and then I'm onto the next stop.

Everyone who's been to Taiwan knows to watch out for typhoon season, as that's a pretty scary time to come. There's generally rain, wind, a whole lot of lightning, and generally unpredictable conditions. That, and a bit of on-edgeness from the threat of earthquakes make the island a geologically interesting area. In the north, the cliffs have been carved by thousands of years of wind and rain. That, mixed with tectonic activity, have made some areas so creative. One of them was the "weird rock formations of Nanya," or, what the locals just call "ice cream rocks." The reason for that is because there is a whipped quality to the rock that make it appear like ice cream. Big, stony flavored scoops of ice cream, right before your eyes.

Getting off the bus, you walk along the sea until you hit one area that is a mini oasis in the heat. Seriously, you walk along a generic shorelines until you reach this small enclave that has small pools of salt water, families eating and picnicking around, and fresh grass growing all around. It's like that movie Holes, where Stanley Yelnats and Zero climb to the top to find an oasis of onion, except in this case it's ice cream rocks. Instantly, it changes from a hot shoreline to a cool seaside place where people are relaxing. The rock structures here are like nothing I've seen. Nature did a good job here. I approved. 

At this point, I decided to head back in closer to Jiufen, to the Gold Museum, since it was about 1 pm. I would spend another two hours at the museum area, and then go back to Jiufen for an eating fest of the streetfood.

What I thought Gold Museum meant was hanging out inside a museum learning about the gold making process, or maybe what the town used to be like for the miners that were brought here for work. What it actually was far surpassed my expectations. It wasn't just one building, it was the entire town that the miners used to live in that had been preserved into a museum, with the actual traditional 'museum' being only one part of the exhibit. In fact, it was more like the Gold Ecological Park, with the Gold Museum as only one exhibit. As an aside, you could touch a piece of gold at the top of the main museum, and people were lining up to touch it for good luck. At the bottom of the piece of gold was a counter for tabulating the number of gold-strokers that had touched the piece thus far. I'm not sure what the actual number was, but I just walked past it. It was a huge piece. Anyhow, the entire town was memorialized, and so they had the old post office, the old police station, the old Shinto Shrine, and some of the old tunnels that the miners would traverse through. What a great exhibit. I'll take you through the interesting parts: 

First up was the four-piece Japanese house. Because of its original wood construction, it wouldn't have lasted long due to decay, so the government took charge to refurbish and construct it in a way as to preserve it long term, and in the original manufacturing method. This house is quintessentially Japanese, and you can see the influence pouring through the architecture, from the sliding doors, the tatami-ish rooms, and the flooring. And, from the way things are just placed. It's very minimal inside, and there's a nice sunlight that strikes into the room through the trees, creating little ray droplets. And, it's made all of wood. A small tour through the place gave a glimpse into the original living manner of the workers that used to live here. I love the Japanese influence in Taiwan, since it's really a bridge of two large Eastern culture coming together.

After, I hiked up to the top where you could visit the old Shinto Shrine that was built on top of the mountains. Actually, not many people were up there since it was about a 700m straight hike upwards into the mountains. But, getting up there was so worth it. Along the way, you pass by those pagoda-looking front gates (I'm not sure as to the word for these..) as well as some other symmetrical rock structures through the steps. And, the steps are in their original stone formation, made to a certain non-precision that has charm to it: some are short steps, some are tall, but they're all uneven. Once you get the last soak of the Taiwanese summer sun, you take a deep breath and enter into a small forest where you can tell you're about to approach the mother of all shrines. There is another symmetrical rock structure on both sides, and the final gate, until you enter the shrine itself. Then, serenity. There's no one up there since they weren't willing to climb. You have this all to yourself. Stone pillars, in four columns, 3 2 2 3, ten in total, erected in a symmetrical fashion, with a small offering shrine at the end. It's simple but so profound at the same time. Just ruins of hundreds of years of religion. 

Climbing down then moving along, you get to go through an old tunnel tour at the price of 50 NTD more. I didn't understand what the lady was saying but it seemed she wasn't going to let me in, so I just nodded and kept going. I went to view that big brick of a gold, with people happily touching it, posing with it, and then moving right along for the next passengers. Some profound thing, I think. After that, I decided to go on a hike a little further into the mountains.

You can probably guess what's coming next, that is, if you're hiking in the mountains towards something in Taiwan, it's likely to be a temple. That, or it's likely to be a rock in the shape of something, which they seem to be mad about. Does it look like an ice cream? ICE CREAM ROCK. Does it look like a famous celebrity? (Insert celebrity name) rock. In this case, it was a rock that looked like a teapot without a handle. I snapped a picture, because it was actually kind of a unique thing. Moving on.

The temple was called 勸濟堂 (Quanji Temple), with this huge statue of Guan Gong, some temple figure. The walk was probably the more interesting part, weaving through the small houses on the cliffs of Jinguashi. The town is very deserted, but there are still people selling food outside of their houses for hikers that have wandered through the ecological park to the Temple. There was also a tiny, tiny old street tucked away under the temple somwhere, and it took me about another hour to find this. After almost giving up, I did end up to find it, and it was just a small street of tiny houses left. No more shops, no tourists, just a cute dog and a lady telling me about the history of the street. How, in the past, it used to be a more busy street with shops, but now it's mostly residential, and it's hardly even residential at that. There was a great charm to it, though, as all small old streets have a characteristic of their own. Some couples were shooting wedding photos there, before I rudely appeared in the background. Um, that'll be like 5 dollars please?

After, I made my way back to the museum area to try that lady again with the tunnels. This time, I understood what she was saying. I gathered from earlier that what she was trying to tell me was that it's too crowded right now, so she told me to go touch the gold first. It wasn't that I wasn't allowed in, it's just that it was too busy. Oh dur. So I just went in this time and saw the old school tunnels (in this case, it was the Benshan No. 5 tunnel) that the miners used to work in. It's a bit strange that I'm frequenting this place as a tourist because it's probably that, like the smelting factory, this would be a place that most people avoided in the past. There were little figurines of miners built in the tunnel, as well as simulations of sound effects of mine blasts and talking amongst the workers. 

After that, I walked around the old town a bit and took a look at the post office as well as the police station, both built out of the same wood that the house was built out of. Not much going on here, just a bunch of people eating at a newly refurbished restaurant. It was unique in that it was selling "miner food," that is, the food I presume they ate when they worked. Surely, that wouldn't be too glamorous right? Mostly gruel? Especially for those that were slaves? Maybe it was a more modern version. A modern version they could sell for a lovely, higher price I presume!

Until the end of the museum, I had only eaten a small rice ball I got from 711. Without realizing it, I'd spend most of the day in the heat with little food, so I decided it was time to hit up Jiufen Old Street to stuff my FAT ASS. I waited, this time, the shortest I've ever waited for the 856 bus (5 minutes) and jumped on in the direction back wards Jiufen. When I got off near the old street? Hoards of people. Hoards!! Were they here to steal the food I was going to eat? No. It was 17:00. Still had another hour before everyone was going to close for the day.

I will talk more about the Jiufen Old Street atmosphere.

It's built along a narrow stretch walkway, probably no more than 4 or 5 meters wide, with shops lining both sides. It's the narrowness of the place that make it fun and a bit annoying, since you're busy trying to push past most people as it gets very crowded, but it's always bustling. There are a couple of streets that are part of the old street: One is the one with food, one with the artists, and one with the teahouses, the last of which is another testament to the Japanese influence. At around 17:00 it's already quite crowded, but the majority of people haven't come for food yet. It's actually not a pretty street when you walk down it, since it's full of people and difficult to get a good photographing angle. The best street to take a picture is the teahouse street, because it's built on this wonderful angle and you can photograph down or up the steps. At 17:00 as well, it's not dark enough to turn on the lights, which is when the town really shines (har har). The red lanterns line the shops, and it turns into a night market of sorts, with vendors trying to sell you their food, and people ducked away in the shops to the brim, enjoying all the local delicacies. The dimly lit vermilion red has a warmth. For those that have seen Spirited Away -- and, if you haven't, I highly recommend it -- you can see the influence of the town on the movie. The movie captured the 'essence' of the street well, which is, for lack of a better description, some hodgepodge je ne sais quois of Chinese and Japanese culture. Because all the photos of the street I took really suck, as you're busy trying not to bump into people or impede traffic, I'll leave you with two: 

After frequenting the street, I went back to the hostel. It was still a little bright out, but I would go back for a rest and then decide from there what to do next.

I chatted with the hostel owners for a bit, and they were telling me about their philosophy of Jiufen, and how, like I said earlier they wanted to really promote the tourism here as "not just the Old Street." Many people, they say, only come in for a day and then check out the old street for what it is: good food, and good vibes. But, to them, they chose Jiufen as a home due to its tranquil nature. You really do notice it too if you step away from the hubbub, it still maintains that mountain town aura to it, being true to its mining roots. The residential area is pretty run down but peaceful, and that living standard has withstood time and tourism. I really didn't have many plans after Jiufen and Jinguashi, in fact, I was planning to do these two towns on separate days. But, seeing as I did all those in one day, what followed was a wonderful conversation about all the intricacies of the town, as well as some other more local sites nearby(ish) that Taiwanese will frequent on the weekends. I largely based my intinerary for the next day on their recommendations (followed up in a different post), and I'm very glad I did. It was also a wonderful opportunity to see the business mindedness of these two ladies. They were savvy in picking the spot for the hostel, of which they waited two years to find. Their determination to bring history and life back into Jiufen was admirable. Plus, their breakfast the next morning was probably some of the most authentic and delicious food I've had on the trip. They made mantou (a typical Chinese-style bread) and green bean soup, with a side of fried pancake that had a homemade flavor to it. Nothing like a homemade meal from the Taiwanese, or, anywhere for that fact. I rarely do these pitches, but if you ever go I would recommend them. They're incredibly knowledgable about the area and appreciate that Jiufen and the larger Taiwan have to offer.

So what did I decide to do in the end after returning to the hostel and having a chat? Going for a tea ceremony. I had to. I mean, YOJO right? You only Jiufen once. I had to get over the awkwardness of being a single diner in a ceremony usually enjoyed by more than one person. Otherwise, I may never get the chance. After a bit of mental psyching up, I took the plunge.

There is a famous teahouse on the Jiufen Old Street called 阿妹茶樓 (Ah-Mei Teahouse). There have probably been thousands of pictures of this place taken before, because it's almost the postcard-iconic picture people show when they talk about teahouses in Jiufen, or probably even Jiufen town itself. It's about three or four stories high, with red lanterns strung along the roof edge, nested perfectly into a mountain crevice and overlooking the ocean. It's always packed for those willing to pay, as the experience of having tea there is probably one of the most authentic. The trick is, however, not to have a ceremony there unless you're hellbent on having the most authentic experience possible. The best thing you can do is go to the teahouse across from them so that you can appreciate all that Ah-Mei's teahouse has to offer in terms of scenery. That means going to 海悅樓 (Hai Yue Teahouse) to have your tea, so you can really get a few good snaps of the iconic Ah-Mei teahouse while still enjoying tea in the same atmosphere. 

I rolled up in the teahouse by myself, and since it was still quiet, the waiter seated me outside as I ordered a tea ceremony. He nodded politely, and said he would be right back. And, in the most efficient manner he came out with the necessary tea ceremony items. The water kettle was placed on the ground, on top of a contraption that held a candle so that it would keep the water hot. The kettle itself had some fancy design on it and no loose handle, it was molded as one piece. When you picked it up, it felt incredibly solid, like you were some grand master tea ceremony implementer; that it would never break. On the table, a circular tambourine-shaped platform with about five perforations in it, about 4 inches thick. On it, a small teacup (looked like a sake cup), and another small cup that was long and cylindrical, such that it could fit within the teacup. And then, a strainer set on top of a white dispensing pot. Lastly, the mini teapot to boil the tea. Off to the side, some fancy tools to hold all of the tea things so as to not contaminate it. 

The waiter puts the heated water first into the mini teapot. He swishes it around, and then pours it into the cylindrical cup stacked within the wider cup, so that the water overflows both cups and the tambourine catches the water. He then pours it through the strainer and into the dispensing pot, and dumps the water out. Everything is heated at this step. Next, he fills the mini teapot (clay teapot? It's the only brown thing on the table) with tea leaves. He puts hot water again into this pot with the leaves, and then strains it out into the dispensing pot. And, after, pours out the first batch of tea. Must be no good. He takes the fancy tools to empty the two teacups, and then pours water again into the clay teapot with leaves in it. This steeps for 1 minute. He says, "After this, we don't expect you to do the whole ceremony, so.."

I interrupt, "Oh, I don't expect myself to, that was too complicated."

He laughs hesitantly, and proceeds to say that I can let it steep for 1 minute and then pour the tea out again. Once the first batch is steeped, he pours it into the long cylindrical teacup. Using the tools, he takes the smaller teacup and caps the cylindrical one, and then inverts it so it looks like an upside down mushroom. Then, with the help of a tool, lifts up the cylindrical cup and the tea flows into the smaller cup. Taking the cup that was just emptied into his hands, he rubs it as if starting a fire, and tells me to smell it (sure, I guess that smells oolongish enough to me?). And then, as swiftly as he came and prepared the setup, he swiftly left and told me to enjoy. The boy was no more than 18 years old.

When you're sitting out on the teahouse balcony and overlook the ocean, then feel a warm summer breeze on your face, there is serenity, there is peacefulness. Jiufen is itself not a large party town, and what people will do is usually get a drink at a teahouse into midnight, where they will then head to bed. It's the tranquility of this place that draws me in. The tourists have ducked into the hotels, and the town finally breathes after it has spent a day at work for them. There's not a loud sound in the distance, maybe the clinking of glasses off in the distance somewhere - a tranquility that I have come to love and respect in Taiwan and from the Taiwanese. The hostel owner told me, after the ceremony, at 22:00 once traffic has died, to go take a short walk down the mountain, up where I came from this morning by bus. She said get to *points* "that point over there" and be sure not to look back until you get there. "When you get there, then turn around, and look at the mountain."

And I do. The town lights overpower the moonlight, and Jiufen has finally come to life. 

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