Taiwan Today

Serenity Blooms Where Cabbages Once Flourished

"By the year 2001, Neihu will count 216,000 people, all living comfortably here," boasts Neihu District officer Ou Wen.

It is a bold statement. Until just two decades ago, Neihu, on the northeast brink of the Taipei Basin, was a place of lush green vegetation and contrasting red earth. The green splotches were the main sources of vegetables on Taipei dining tables; the red earth was often made into bricks. As a mailer of fact, the Neihu landscape was, truly, most characterized by its sticklike, crimson chimneys, separated by the green cabbage-field patches. Many people made use of the area as a recreation spot, taking outings on sunny days in its country-side selling and fresh air.

All of the brick kilns have now gone out of business. And the vegetable patches have given way to apartment units. New residents began flooding into the area from the mid 60s, when Neihu was declared part of metropolitan Taipei. In a land area of 31.62 square kilometers, the district now hosts over 120,000 residents in 33,000 households, as compared to less than 20,000 in the 50s. And the inflow is still increasing, at a pace at least as fast as that for metropolitan Taipei. The District Office estimates the saturation point at 350,000, so there is still ample room for development. "This growth has been, and will be progressing in a planned, orderly manner," adds Ou.

Seven bridges have been either newly built or reinforced in the last few years to enhance Neihu's linkage to central Taipei across the Keelung River. Three 30-meter-wide roads, a highway, and a multi-lane freeway now accommodate 30,000 Neihu commuters, going to and from work and school daily in metropolitan Taipei. It is now an easy 15-minute drive from Neihu to the central Taipei business and financial districts.

Transit convenience combined with lower land prices and the still largely rural selling have attracted a large middle class population, which has, also, decisively opted for a suburban environment rather than the central city high rises.

Chen Ta-chen, in his late 30s, owns a comfortable, four bedroom condominium in a big apartment complex on Neihu Road. Work keeps both Ta-chen and his wife May in Taipei most of the day, and their three-year-old son also commutes—to a private kindergarten in the adjacent Tachih District of Taipei.

One of the four bedrooms is reserved for Chen's mother, a typical city dweller who likes to visit her youngest son from time to time and enjoy the cleaner suburban air. But, she says, she would never dream of moving to a place like Neihu herself, because "at my age, friends are very important, and none of my friends are moving to this vicinity."

But May has never regretted the family decision to move to Neihu. "I used to live in rural Taipei. Then we bought an apartment in central Taipei after we were married, and I missed the feeling of waking up everyday to a windowful of green scenery. That's why, when we saw the advertisement for this housing complex, we decided to move," she said.

Advertisements for Neihu housing complexes are hard to miss; they have been in almost every Sunday newspaper edition for the last decade, since both apartment and single-home developments are going up at an astounding rate. According to statistics at the Neihu District Office, there are currently about 70 such construction projects under way, and the development fever is expected to continue for some time.

Some people buy a residence in Neihu not as their permanent address, but as a second home. The Wang family is one example. The elderly Wang is comfortably established in an urban apartment in the Minsheng district of Taipei. Two years ago, he bought a second home at the northern limits of Neihu, on a hilly site, for both recreational and investment reasons. "I would never dream of living here. It takes 20 minutes to drive down to the main roads of Neihu, and another 20 minutes to Taipei. But I enjoy coming here every Sunday, doing some gardening, and watching my grandchildren play in the open air."

The average annual income of Neihu residents is US$9,120—about three times the per capita GNP of the nation. The average Neihu resident is considered to be "forty-ish, reasonably secure in his career, family oriented, and buying a house for the second time."

This middle-class orientation surfaced sharply during the recent election campaign for city councilmen. Chao Shao-kang, the incumbent city councilman for the Neihu area, won his second term in a landslide, campaigning hard for environmental issues and "clean politics." He advocated outlawing plastic bags in favor of bio-degradable shopping bags, a stand which won him many followers in environment-conscious Neihu.

Chen Kuang-hsien, another Neihu candidate for the city council, grouped a "better road system, better social order, and better food and drug administration for a better life in Taipei" in his campaign slogan.

The 10-day election contest climaxed in the November 16 balloting and was a comparatively sober event for middle-class Neihu as compared to the sound, fury, and color in many other areas. Each campaign meeting staged by the candidates, whether in a school stadium or a temple square, drew capacity crowds. But the Neihu crowd reaction was one of contemplation and cool assessment. The candidate may have been yelling at the top of his voice from a platform in a shopping area, but as Lin Mei-chen, a housewife resident nearby, illustrated, his listeners weren't being swayed with the same intensity: "I rather resent the way the candidates tune their loudspeakers to the highest volume and pop off firecrackers wherever they go. I think we are now above that old-fashioned way of campaigning. We like Neihu as a clean and quiet place. Our political representatives should also treasure these Neihu assets."

Among the many atmospheric assets are the absences of factories and industrial centers. Since the old brick kilns folded, the city has not encouraged new factories for the area. Indeed, recently, by ordinance, it banned factories with machines of more than one housepower from the district. "As it is now, we have about 20 percent of the population working in manufacturing, and 45 percent in the service industries. It is a healthy balance for a residential area. Since Neihu residents mostly find employment in other districts, I do not think there is any need to change that balance," said Chao Shao-kang.

There is no large-scale shopping area on the planning boards, either. "Since we are so close to the Taipei business districts, and since many of our residents spend a major portion of their days in other districts, they prefer to do their serious shopping in Taipei proper, where there is a wider variety of choice," explains Ou Wen. His office is responsible for the execution of the city plan and is also the coordination center for 11 municipal service functions, including sanitation, house registrations, and postal banking services.

So the local residents gravitate to the city center for work, shopping, and restaurant hopping while inner city residents travel to Neihu for relaxation and picnicking among Neihu's green hills and clear waters.

Neihu, 1iterally Inner Lake, won its name from an obvious semblance created by its once-isolated geographical location. On the northeast corner of Taipei, Neihu proper stands on a plain embraced on three sides by hills and bor­dered by the Keelung River on the south.

Neihu's Temple of the Gold Dragon has been a favorite tourist site for the past half-century. Only 15 minutes via an easy-ascending walk from the main Neihu busstop, the three-story gold pagoda serenely guards a white statue of the Lady Cannon. Under her statue, six white-stone elephants look over the Fang Shen Chih—Pond of the Second Life—where devout Buddhists buy captive fish or turtles and set them free. The clasped palms of the Lady Cannon point westward to the Neihu Basin, below.

Outside the temple, a middle-aged man sits at his regular table awaiting business. For just NT$100 (US$2.50) anyone can go up to him, write down a Chinese character at random, and get his fortune told.

As others looked on, one simply-dressed lady walked out of the temple, hesitated a minute, then came to the table. The fortune teller inspected the character she wrote, checked several reference books, and advised her: "You are at the threshold of change in your life. Your luck has not been the best, but it will turn for the better from the beginning of the next lunar cycle." Waving his hand with a big, circular motion, he continued: "Go home and reset your bedroom furniture so your bed faces south. Only by doing so can you properly receive the chi (spirit) with which nature blesses you."

Another 30 minutes of uphill walk from the Temple of the Gold Dragon is a camping ground at the foot of a small waterfall. Unlike the temple area, this locale is filled with pop music, barbecue smells, bright T-shirted youngsters, and the cries of small children for their mothers.

"We are having fresh roast fish and charcoal-toasted rice," proudly offered five-year-old Lo Cho-yen, pointing to his father, face ruddy from the flames, at the other side of the campfire. Behind them, between the rocks of the waterfall catch-basin, young teenagers stepped in and out of water puddles, chasing fish.

The city planners have striven to keep such assertions of nature in place. Besides two camping sites, Lusu Lake and 140 hectares of adjacent land to the west of the district have been declared city park reservation areas. Except for the most preliminary facilities, such as walking paths and basic camping facilities, the places are as close to the original natural state as possible.

Taking advantage of the park, several entrepreneurs have built private country clubs in the area to attract those who prefer a more eventful country weekend.

Wang Jun-jung, 45, takes his wife and daughters from Taipei to Neihu, to one such club almost every Sunday. While there, he enjoys a good match of tennis with his regular partners, and the children play amid the country scenery; his wife may chat with friends in the club-house.

In season, the family may enjoy nature from still another vantage—fruit picking. Farmers in the area have switched from rice to more economically profitable crops, such as strawberries. During the height of the season, many open their fields to tourists, who pay a minimal fee to pick their own fresh strawberries. In winter, orange-orchard owners in the higher elevations do the same.

The District Office has a program to assist local farmers in switching to high-­ income farm produce to assure more of an income balance between farming and non-farming families in the area. It has, for instance, successfully helped several families to cultivate lentinus edodes, mushrooms which grow on wood logs in wet, dark, but well-ventilated environments. Lentinus edodes are very welcome but expensive ingredients for Chinese cuisine. One kilogram of the locally planted mushrooms brings as much as NT$1,000 (US$25) on the open market. The dried ones are even more expensive.

One thing valued in common by the indigenous farming families and the new immigrants to the district is a concept of the importance of education for their next generations. Yet, surprisingly, no candidate in the recent city political campaign tried to gain attention by criticizing Neihu's education system, which boasts six apparently well-run primary schools, and two junior high and five high schools.

Mingteh Commercial College, a five-year vocational school combining high school and junior college, accommodates 2,000 students and is the highest level school in the area. It has one of the best computer teaching facilities in northern Taiwan, and its three computer classrooms and one practice room are always packed with interested students. The long sign-up list for the computers attests to the enthusiasm of the students.

"I first thought it would be too difficult...that is beyond my comprehension. But my computer really talks to me," volunteered a girl student; she fondly patted a mini-computer terminal.

A good percentage of the students, upon graduation, will continue their education at regular four-year colleges. Many others will start their careers in the central city. Quite a few will remain residents of Neihu and even find employment in the immediate area. Like many of the second generation of Neihu immigrants, they will consider the burgeoning new community their "old" hometown.