(Published by Fujinsha in 1993)
As someone with an interest in ethnic culture, this was a golden opportunity for me, and I discovered that there were many people there who spoke Japanese fluently, a legacy of the Japanese colonial period.
Thanks to the Executive Yuan Information Office, I was able to get a flight to Hualien the next morning. The Amis dance was not the usual tourist-style, but a serious competition of dance techniques from each village, and it was truly impressive to watch. Watching them, I couldn't help but feel a flow of Japanese roots. Indonesians and Malaysians have also traveled by sea from south to north, and their bloodlines remain here on Taiwan's Pacific coast. Here and there, I could see faces I'd seen somewhere in Japan.
On the fertile southern island, rice is grown twice a year. So at the end of summer, in between harvests, they hold a harvest festival. The Amis people, who live scattered throughout the area, flock to the square in the village of Gwanghok.
Both men and women wear beautiful traditional costumes and dance with the pride of their village.
Along the national highway next to the square, there are many stalls selling clothing, toys, etc. Of course, there are also many food stalls, including those selling meat dumplings in small, bamboo-like containers that are unique to Ami.
What was interesting was the shrimp fishing stall. As you'd expect from a country of gourmet food, people don't catch goldfish that can't be eaten, but live prawns. For those who are too impatient to take them home, charcoal is lit on a hibachi grill. As soon as they catch the prawns, they sprinkle them with coarse salt and grill them in their shells. This means they put a lot of energy into fishing.
Another notable feature was the Takumi tea utensil stall, which displayed a tiered display of oolong tea teapots.
I was speechless to see so many Yixing-style purple clay teapots lined up at a festival stall in this remote countryside. This was tea country, after all.
There were a ton of beautifully shaped teapots, some in the style of Chen Mingyuan, a master of Yixing ware from the Qing dynasty, and others in the style of Meng Chen. My desire immediately became apparent, but unfortunately I had almost no Taiwanese dollars on hand. This was all due to the fact that my flight had been delayed the day before and I hadn't yet been able to exchange money. "I only have Japanese yen," I told the stall owner, who thought for a moment before replying in Japanese, "That's fine, that's fine." Eastern Taiwan is a region where pre-war Japanese still lives on in abundance.
But there's just too much going on. It's a very happy cry, but it makes my head feel like it's going to short-circuit.
Purple clay teapots, even new works by well-known contemporary Taiwanese artists, often cost over 10 yen. There were also a few at street stalls that cost over 1 yen, but there were also many practical and beautiful pieces for 500 yuan, or around 3000 yen if you calculate 1 yuan (NT) as 6 yen. Since it was my first day shopping, I decided to pick up a drum-shaped one that cleverly combined brick and chocolate browns.
