The citizenry and media were in an uproar, demanding that the city preserve the trees. Finally, the city, in a notable precedent, bowed to public demand and saved the trees, replanting them either on traffic islands or along the sidewalks.
Many Taipei avenues have been broadened and new boulevards built since that time, and the number of city trees has seen a massive increase—from 28,696 in 1971 to more than 900,000 today. As against a population of 2.5 million, that is almost one tree for each three metro denizens. However, the public wants more, and the city government is now on its way to doubling the person-tree ratio.
The most common roadside and traffic-island trees in Taipei are the banyan, camphor, silk-cotton, and the Cuban royal palm. Indeed, the four species have become hallmarks of the city—so much so, some citizens refer to trees rather than street name: "Turn on the silk-cotton street," "past the Cuban royal palm road," etc.
The roadside trees are normally 10 to 30 or more meters apart. And where space permits, to make the streets more beautiful, the city is planning to grow flowers between them.
Very mindful of the public's concern for the trees, the city government has carefully solicited advice from both experts and volunteering citizens on selections of both future trees and flowers. One such recent effort was in the form of an "election campaign" for a city tree and flower, in which species of each were voted on by the citizens. However, the final decision was reserved to the City Council, which couldn't miss such an opportunity for such elegant politicking.
Thus, the debate is hot as the time approaches for the Councilmen to cast their votes. Newspapers and magazines are running repetitive articles in an attempt to influence the decision and calling on readers to directly lobby the Council.
The City administration, predictably, is welcoming this truly grassroots democracy because, it declares, the citizens will take better care of the trees and flowers if they are allowed to influence the decision. It goes without saying, that it also is not oblivious to the political wind—prospective political support—among the trees.
The front-running arboreal candidate is the spectacular silk-cotton tree, a species introduced into Taiwan in the 17th Century and widely planted since in central and southern Taiwan as well as in Taipei. Because its bright yellow-to-red-orange magnolia-like flowers are so gorgeous, the trees are also popular in private gardens.
Opposition to the silk-cotton as the Taipei City representative centers on the fact that the species cannot grow as luxuriously in northern Taiwan, where Taipei is located. True, the tree blooms well each year, but it does not bear its namesake fruit regularly. All Taipei citizens are captivated by the beautiful flowers of the trees, but few have been exposed to the silky-cotton bounty of June or July. In central and southern Taiwan, where the trees bear fruit every year, the populace also marvels at the fruits and their silky filaments.
Years ago, citizens of Kaohsiung—the giant container port in southern Taiwan—urged their city administration to make the silk-cotton tree a city symbol. And, thus, civic pride is also a reason some Taipei citizens oppose the silk-cotton: they think Taipei's symbol should be unique.
So, the maple. Because maple leaves turn reddish when it is cold in Taipei, it is a better locale than the southern communities for the highland variety. Without fail, also, the maples spurt fresh green buds in February and March, providing a fresh spring vista. The problem is, the species is vulnerable to attacking insects.
When insect damage to the maples is considered, then the banyan becomes the next best selection. The luxuriant foliage of this evergreen can absorb noise and reduce dust fallout year-round. Another advantage: the dense foliage can be trimmed to different shapes.
And the camphor tree is even more insect-resistant, and also a favorite of insect-aware citizens. Like the banyan, it also sports luxuriant evergreen foliage. In addition, its fragrance is particularly liked by many citizens.
Similar controversy rages over the choice of a city flower. The azalea was top popular vote-getter. With its white, pink, purple, or red flowers, the shrub is ubiquitous on Taiwan. The plant can grow in poor, well-drained soil and is good as a low noise-hedge. And no matter how heavy the traffic fumes, the plant blooms in February and March without fail.
Monuntaineers are surprised at the cold-resistance of various azalea species. They come across the plant growing luxuriantly at more than 3,000 meters above sea level, where local trees can't survive. When many an exhausted climber reaches the heights of several mountain areas here, he is gladdened by the red flowers and green leaves of numerous azaleas. Lying down amid the shrubs for a nap, climbers find their bodies decorated by fallen petals on waking.
Individual azalea flowers are small and short-lived, if cut, but masses of azalea flowers are truly spectacular. Each spring, at Yangmingshan Park in the suburbs of Taipei, old and young flock to catch a glimpse of the "sea of azalea flowers."
Stand upon stand of massed azaleas have also made the spring campus of National Taiwan University famous—a locale for romance. Many a college coed has heard love words strolling through the blooming azalea thickets. Heartbreakers on the TV soap operas, perhaps too often, refer to fallen red azalea petals as "drops of blood from their hearts." The azalea does not grow as well in the island's other cities as in Taipei. There is too much rain at Keelung, the northern port city. And in Taichung, Tainan, and Kaohsiung, down south, it is apparently too warm.
But if judged solely on the basis of reputation, the title of city flower would surely have to go to the Taiwan butterfly (moth) orchid, which took 1952 and 1953 championships in international competitions staged in the United States. In Taiwan, a moth orchid is called a butterfly orchid, because for the Chinese (as in the West) a moth is a doomed insect, known for flinging itself into a flame.
There are at least 50 varieties of butterfly orchids in Taiwan. And beautiful they are, a favorite of experienced gardeners. But the plant is not suitable for careless cultivation. It is, in nature, more often than not found clinging to the trunk of a big rain-forest tree. Certainly, it can and is being grown in Taipei, but as opposition voters point out, only if given extensive care. The city now spends the annual equivalent of a million US dollars to maintain its planted areas, in addition to the actual salaries for more than 1,000 workers who carry out the job.
Air pollution hinders the orchid's root development, and Taipei's frequent cold spells adversely affect it. Level-headed citizens agree, say the flower's opponents, that the butterfly orchid is a delicate creature, suited only for private gardens. Nevertheless, Taitung city in southeastern Taiwan has adopted the plant as its official flower.
Other favorite flowers include the camellia, scarlet sage, and chrysanthemum. The thick, glossy leaves of the camellia glimmer in the sunshine, setting off its beautiful pink, scarlet, or white blossoms. When the Chinese people praise a good match, they often use the phrase "red flower and green leaves" (making each other more outstanding and conspicuous). Actually, when the blossoms are in full bloom on some species, they conceal the leaves. And after a few days, fallen petals cover the ground, making viewers feel sad.
Like the azalea, the camellia grows better in cool climates. Its flower buds appear in the cool of late autumn and begin to bloom in the coming March or April.
The local scarlet sage species, also called "red-string" or "firecracker red," does look like a string of red firecrackers. The plant has a specially high ornamental value because it blooms throughout the year, and large quantities decorate the formal gardens of Taipei's monumental Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall.
In fact, the blossoms of "scarlet" sage are not invariably red. There are also purple and pink varieties. Because the shape and color of the flowers impart a propitious feeling, the plant is much liked by Chinese gardeners. Home gardeners often sow the seeds in autumn so the flowers will bloom during the Chinese New Year.
The chrysanthemum is traditionally considered by Chinese literati as a "hermit among flowers," a symbol of stoicism and peace, and has been popular since the 10th Century. The chrysanthemum, plum blossom, orchid, and bamboo came to be known as the "four nobles" among Chinese poets and painters; of the four, the chrysanthemum is the most eulogized.
Some ancient Chinese believed that people who drank chrysanthemum wine on the ninth day of the Ninth Moon would live longer and avoid bad luck. The so-called "chrysanthemum" wine is actually a combination brew of chrysanthemum petals and millet—a preparation mixed in autumn and kept aging in an urn, which is not opened until the ninth day of the Ninth Moon of the following year.
Ancient lore holds that the chrysanthemum plant can keep a man's brain healthy and; therefore, dried chrysanthemums are often used to stuff pillows (other stuffs for this purpose are dry mulberry or tea leaves and lentil husks).
The ancient Chinese valued the yellow chrysanthemum in particular because yellow was considered a royal color. They came to call all species of chrysanthemum "the yellow flower."
The chrysanthemum, incidentally, was introduced into Japan from China even before it became popular among the Chinese. The royal house as well as commoners in Japan were smitten by the plant. A number of Japanese literary works dealt with the chrysanthemum. And many reputed families, including the royal house, adopted the flower as a family symbol.
Since the Japanese remain obsessed with the unique attractions of the chrysanthemum, Taiwanese farmers cash in on the opportunity to grow large quantities of the flower for export to Japan. They advance the plants' blooming period with the use of electric lights. Thousands of light bulbs glimmer in the night in the chrysanthemum fields of central Taiwan, where most of the flowers are grown, providing a spectacular view.
The chrysanthemum is also an Oriental symbol of longevity and, as such, an auspicious birthday present for elders. Ironically, pots of chrysanthemum plants are used both for birthday decorations and in the funeral hall.
But back to the controversy over which tree and flower can best represent Taipei city. To help find the answer, the city solicited the opinions of a number of experts, including painters, poets, and professors, well before the election campaign was launched.
The late Foreign Minister George Yeh, a bamboo painter of repute, voted for the camphor tree and chrysanthemum. He noted that the camphor tree is an indigenous species, has a beautiful form, provides ample shade, and gives forth a refreshing fragrance. As for the chrysanthemum, he added, it offers a variety of flower forms and colors and can be cultivated throughout the year.
Painter Wu Yen-yuan, a senior member of the Legislative Yuan, an ombudsman-like branch of the central government, agreeing with George Yeh, noted that the Chinese written character for "camphor tree" is formed by joining the characters for "wood" and "literary works" and that the word rhymes with the Chinese words for "protection" and "guarantee." At the turn of spring and summer, he added, its tender leaves give forth a vernal spirit of youth, while the chrysanthemum flowers on the top of their long stems give an impression of towers of endurance and strength.
Professor Liang Shih-chiu, a noted Shakespearean scholar, preferred a different tree, called the chungyang in Chinese (dubbed "autumn maple" by English travelers), because he finds its luxuriant foliage especially attractive. For the city flower, he prefers the azalea: "The shrub is small and, therefore, most suitable for growing on the traffic islands. It can also be planted in concrete pots and moved to any place one likes. Its blooming period is long, and the blossoms are in a variety of colors."
Professor Li Kuo-liang of Taipei's Fu Jen Catholic University opts for the banyan tree and azaleas: "If banyan trees are flanked by masses of beautiful azalea, they will be all the more beautiful. The azalea can be grown anywhere. If every household in Taipei chooses to grow azaleas, Taipei will immediately become an azalea city."
Painter Hu Ke-ming regards the silk-cotton tree as "a hero among trees" and the chrysanthemum as a noble, national flower.
Painter Liang Yu-ming agrees: "A silk-cotton tree stands out like a crane among a flock of chickens. All painters are intrigued by the tree and its flamelike flowers. And the chrysanthemum blooms in all seasons, and its appearance is far richer than that of other flowers."
Obviously, all the trees and flowers have their special features, advantages and disadvantages. The City Councilmen will not only have a hard time choosing a city tree and a city flower, but for certain, whatever their choices, they won't make everybody happy.