surviving taiwan’s byways

I was told in South Korea that drivers would stop for pedestrians 50% of the time — I’d say maybe 10% — but in Taiwan, never — not even on a zebra crossing or with a green walk sign flashing.

It didn’t take long to adapt with my eyes radiating in all directions when I crossed a street. If a motor scooter headed my way, I learned to trust that the driver would swerve by me.

those who lay silent

I meandered down a narrow lane before returning to Hengchun. An old signpost at the entrance hinted that some of the graves around the laneway might be from the town’s ancient past.

Chuhuo’s natural flame

Not far past Hengchun’s East Gate was Chuhuo Natural Fire. I walked the half kilometre, then down wooden steps to a tree lined path that ended at a circular barrier.

Hengchun’s last gate

I returned to Hengchun after a few days. That last gate, West Gate, that I’d missed niggled at me because it wasn’t every day I got to explore a walled town.

the ancient town of hengchun

When the bus rolled through Hengchun on the way to Kenting (pronounced Ken-ting), it appeared like the dingiest route, but I still wanted to explore its narrow streets. On my return, I headed to its most photographed site, Hengchun’s South Gate.