Nightlife in Taitung

So I made it to Taitung after an all-nighter. Even the journalists who slept had to get up at 4am and face a full day of daunting activities. We were first whisked north to the serene coastal town of Dulan, getting to know the local art scene at the fantastic Sugar Factory along Highway 11. I don’t really know how we survived before lunch, being herded from venue to venue, snapping pictures and interacting with local artists and entrepreneurs solely on professional autopilot. Perhaps it was due to the gentle sunshine, the limitless expanse of the azure Pacific on one side, and the majestic mountain range on the other. And God knows how many cups of coffee, green teas and matcha lattes.

Had a smoother start the next day—an Amis tribesman offered me a shot of mijiu (rice liqueur) in a sun-drenched courtyard at 11:30am, after we had just watched a quaint Amis version of STOMP. Of course I accepted and downed the glass. Hey I’m on holiday, and I don’t want the locals to lose face. A lady with red-stained teeth then offered me my first betel experience. “What does it do to you?” I inquired.

“It freshens your breath—just like gum.” The woman replied. “Don’t swallow, just chew. And spit out the juices from the first chew, or you might faint.” She warned.
My teeth bit through the fibrous betel leaf and into the peppery flesh of the areca nut. I spat out the astringent blood-red juice unceremoniously onto the floor. The Amis laughed. I felt tingling heat emanating from the blood in my veins. I was strangely content, with a heightened sense of awareness. Who needs coffee or coke when you have mijiu and betel nuts?

My Han Chinese guides were slightly shaken by my quick conversion to indigenous drug culture. “Oh my, you’ll try anything, won’t you?” One remarked. Apparently I had established a bold reputation in their eyes. Perhaps it was from the night before, at that delightful seaside restaurant, where we feasted on creative tribal cuisine; and I—high on sleep deprivation and revived with shots of sweet millet wine—somehow ended up carrying a huge bamboo torch with a topless Amis and lit a big bonfire by the sea. Well it was their welcoming ritual and they were asking their new Hong Kong media friends to send out a representative to carry the fire with their chief. Not surprisingly, none of the HK media had the cojones to do it. So naturally, it was up to Nightlife to WERQ Hong Kong and Amis relations. I also yodeled three times according to tradition. Then all the males of our group were forced to join them in a vigorous tribal dance which none of our exhausted selves were coordinated enough to handle. I think we enjoyed our public humiliation more than the Amis appreciated our crap attempt at dancing.

The next day we climbed a sacred mountain with the Bunun (famous for their sophisticated polyphonic vocal music). It was going to be a full day of hardcore climbing so I knocked back the sweet, thick millet moonshine during our picnic breakfast.

My last night in Taitung was spent at Tiehua Music Village, their Fringe Club with an alfresco bar and a lovely stretch of lawn. Come nightfall, the fire pit was lit, pine-scented smoke keeping the mosquitoes at bay. It was open mic night and I was going to sign myself up on the blackboard outside when fierce singer-songwriter Panai showed up, in hippie tribal splendor. She played the guitar while equally fierce Nabu sang a plaintive ballad in their Austronesian tongue; then Panai did a meditative Minnan song over mellow bossa nova chords. Ah Taitung, I shall be back to experience your lifestyle in a more laidback fashion!