the shady side: penghu: ugly island

I recently dragged my menopausal mother to the PENGHU Islands in the Taiwanese Strait. Lonely Planet claims Penghu is a ‘popular summertime destination for its white sandy beaches, swimming, camping, windsurfing and beautiful coral beaches,’ and ‘a trip through history with its preserved fishing villages and beautiful temples.’ Other claims are the islands have a beautiful, windswept landscape contrasting from Taiwan’s mountainous tropics.

After a four day sentence we have renamed Penghu UGLY ISLAND, primarily for its barren landscape of debris and trash, but also for its devastating lack of trees and geographical contrast. Flat, empty, and covered in mutilated pine tree stumps. Contrary to Lonely Planet’s claims that camping is permitted, Penghu is a strategic and contentious military base located between Taiwan and China. Military training programs mean no beach access, so we spent the first night in a fluorescent-lit, mosquito-filled, white-tiled room. To escape impending claustrophobia, we ventured to the annual Fireworks Festival/Mother’s Day Variety Show with a crowd of 30,000 (great for my Australian mother who thinks Mother’s Day is a day for everyone else to piss off and give her some long deserved peace). The event coincided with the birthday of a very important god (obviously), because he was made entirely of glowing plastic, with a green laser-beam coming out of his third eye, fire and bubbles shooting out of his hands, and a stand adorned with flashing blue-diamond bonsais. The nearby river glowed with the reflection of a neon rainbow bridge, and we were privy to wannabe rock stars, school choirs, nonsensical English ballads, and divinely, crackling fireworks. I eventually realised however that I was the local freak show, finding myself surrounded by TV cameras, bright lights and Chinese questions. Luckily my mother jumped in front of me (in true Leo style), and yes, we made National Taiwan News - the crazed white woman and the gypsy mute.

The next day we left Penghu’s ‘civilization’ for the nearby island of Chipei. Arrival brought the vision of a true nuclear landscape - flattened plains of landfills and dust, intense winds, scorching heat, heavy smog, few surviving plants or buildings, and a coastline littered with the debris of destroyed tombs (which I later found out is intentional – after drying out the bones of the ancestors, they should be kept closer to home). Forget about campgrounds with running water, beach-front cafes, swinging hammocks, tropical cocktails, and ripples licking golden sands. Chipei meant camping alone in a small, solitary patch of pine trees and rubbish (with no books, music, games or extended company), severe sunstroke and headaches, violent sandstorms, and shores littered with hissing, twisting sea snakes.

We were facing three days of utter abjection and each other. My mother began by blaming me for the geographical deficiencies and lack of ‘Keep Penghu Beautiful’ campaigns. She informed me I had some “hare-brained ideas,” partnered by the more vehement “when you reach my age, you are going to regret the suffering you put me through.” To ensure her prophecy comes true, I made her ride on the back of a 100cc scooter, strung in handbags, travel-packs, sleeping bags, a 4-man tent and an IKEA mattress.

The lowest points however were our mealtime tensions and conflicts. Chipei is incredibly remote and survives primarily on a staple of rice and fish - my mother is allergic to both, and my Chinese is seriously limited. Somehow we ended up on a diet of giant snails and sea-urchin pancakes, which I have discovered to be the most effective laxatives after magic mushrooms. Great for camping without a trowel, without toilet paper, and without bathrooms or running water for miles.