A Romantic Trip to Hengchun Old Town
On a romantic trip to Hengchun Old Town in early autumn, the hot pavement grows positively scorching as it stretches further south, finally a long narrow road ending at a quiet old town on the Hengchun Peninsula.
The early story of this town is shrouded in obscurity, but begins to take shape by the 17th century.
After the Dutch colonialists left Taiwan in 1662, Han Chinese began to come to the island from across the sea. After landing at Checheng, they settled down, rolled up their sleeves, and took to farming; in 1874, Japan invaded Taiwan, the shock of the punitive expedition known as the Mudan Incident bringing Qing imperial emissary Shen Baozhen rushing to Taiwan to deal with the situation. The city walls of Hengchun were later constructed for national defense reasons.
Yet after the city gates were completed, they were never put to the test by cannon and rifle fire, and carry no tragic memories of blood and tears; they are, instead, a testament to the beautiful progression of the four seasons. They welcome the warm sunlight of spring, are battered by heavy rain storms in the heat of the long summer and brief autumn, and see off the gentle sun of winter. Many people are indifferent to whether the gates rot and collapse, like countless other historical sites that have been ignored instead of cherished as they should be. Whether or not government ordinances and those involved in cultural and historical workers show concern for the crumbling bricks, the gates remain, waiting to receive the care they deserve.
The clouds and wind come and go, leaving wrinkles on what was once a young face. The young man who once moved effortlessly across the paddy fields planting the rice seedlings is now an old man nodding off in a bamboo chair, serenaded by the call of cicadas.
A fashion for shooting movies and television series in this area has jogged the memories of people outside the town, the stories of laughter and tears, sadness and inspiration in the historical city suddenly reminding people of the enchanting scenes on display in southern Taiwan. Some workers have since come to add fashionable red bricks to the gates and walls and re-lay the concrete on the ground; perhaps this current mix of new and old stone will remain for a few more centuries, welcoming and seeing off Hengchun’s sightseers with a classical elegance.
Cape Eluanbi
The story of this sparklingly white lighthouse, standing at the southernmost tip of Taiwan, is more complicated than its simple function of guiding mariners would suggest. The complex power struggles behind it add a tinge of melancholy to the bright white lighthouse, making it a glimmer of light amidst darkness for which a price had to be paid.
In the 19th century, ships frequently ran aground or capsized on the Qixing Reef, off Cape Eluanbi. Under pressure from foreign powers, China’s feeble Qing government reluctantly built the armed Cape Eluanbi Lighthouse in 1883. But as the Qing military vacated Taiwan after the First Sino-Japanese War in 1895, it razed the lighthouse to the ground out of spite. It was later rebuilt and again sustained damage in Allied bombing in World War II, only finally being restored after the war. Under the towering galvanized iron lighthouse standing 24 meters tall against a backdrop of sky and ocean, you will forget the disasters that have occurred here.
Imagine how many sailors took comfort from the warm light cast by the lighthouse as they gazed out from the deck of their ships into the darkness of the night. Today, having been officially opened to visits by the public in 1992, the Eluanbi Lighthouse has become part of the beautiful scenery of the Kenting Peninsula. Standing beside the lighthouse and making it part of your memories is the best way to repay it.