November 5, 2025

I emerge into consciousness on the huge bed encircled by the unusual surroundings reminiscent of an abandoned 1920s movie set. Despite the hotel seeming questionable from the street level and interior lobby, the experience of staying here seems respectable enough, the rooms kept clean to the best of the cleaners’ abilities, the women tending diligently to their appointed rooms during the morning hours. The staff at the reception also does its best to accommodate special requests. Then the place is very inexpensive, certainly compared to the options further into town. While the surrounding area is very unpretentious, there are innumerable shops and eating options, never mind the small treasures hidden in the hutongs radiating from the main roads.

The plan for the day is to explore interesting parts of the city, or at least those recommended to visitors. Such an experience has two sides — there could be attractions of genuine interest, or simply those that have effectively been crafted as tourist attractions but ultimately geared to extracting as much money out of visitors’ pockets as possible. The motive for seeking out designated tourist attractions is that I don’t have a lot of time slated for seeing this huge city; at least today’s itinerary will be quite compact and easily accessible from the Daqiaotou station on the yellow line, a few stations to the east of my hotel.

The Datong district seems to concentrate around Yanping North road just below Daqiaotou station, although the initial blocks of the street are a far cry from the zone designated for tourists, unassuming, lacking in polish, but with a feeling of authenticity that the gleaming streetscape to the south lacks entirely. By the metro station, a lively and somewhat unstructured produce market that sees me instinctively wanting to inspect the fruits and vegetables displayed in the chaotically-arranged boxes stacked in front of each shop, but I need to remind myself that I only have a small fridge and no cooking facilities at my disposal. Some fresh fruit, sure, but I don’t want to have to carry it with me all day, either!

Walking southward, the streetscape is high on charm, trimmed banyan trees along the edge of the sidewalk reaching skyward next to the institutional and academic plots whose landscaping seems to have gone awry. Buildings reflect a varyingly weathered quality, the older they are, the worse the quality of the walls, and yet the claustrophobic jumble of belongings and plants jammed behind the metal gratings of the narrow balconies evoke the characteristic Asian domestic plenitude, and as untended as the green space may be, in this climate, it grows relentlessly. The architectural profile of the area is limited to buildings that typically don’t extend beyond 10 stories, but many are much smaller; while the street level may not reflect an excess of space, the environment feels comfortable, particularly for the pedestrian.

The institutional buildings are interesting inasmuch as they reflect an era of design, infused with its local sensibility and pragmatic considerations, for example, the elementary school whose windows are shielded by horizontal wooden louvres, the structure lined with the elegant trunks of the regularly-spaced banyans. Much of the traditional architecture abuts the roadside, the pedestrian walkways tucked inside arcades that run parallel with the street. Many of the structures feature decorative parapet gables, resplendent in bas relief floral designs.

The entire periphery of the Dadaocheng Cisheng Temple is dedicated to pedestrian passageways lined with eateries, snack stands, and kiosks selling religious offerings, the humble and welcoming authenticity of the area in start contrast with the contrived privilege that Datong transforms into a few short blocks to the south. It would be easy to slow down and join the ranks of mostly elderly visitors and spend the rest of the day hunched on a stool in front of one of the innumerable establishments, and precisely for that reason I should best continue on my way!

The Dadaocheng Cisheng temple is dedicated to Mazu, the protector of sailors and fishermen and is relatively modern, established in the middle of the 19th century by immigrants from Tong’an, Fujian, who came here during the late Qing Dynasty. The temple is small, with obligatory decorative detailing that may be quite similar to that found in all Taiwanese Buddhist temples, but the assault of colour and panoply of contorted shapes always provides a welcoming alternative to the drab urban landscape. Not that Datong is that lifeless — even north of the vaunted retail strip, the urban landscape is varied in intriguing ways. The traditional temple gates, the brick church with a neogothic parapet gable decorated with floral plaster bas relief work flanked by squat, crocketed spires, small Buddhist shrines crammed with flamboyantly clad Buddha statuettes, signage, some horizontal, most vertical, backlit, neon, or unlit, the worldly perimeters of individual storefronts guarded by columns of potted plants. Scooters are parked in dense succession along roadsides and under the protective reach of arcades, the idea of pedestrian prerogative notional at best.

Now on to the heart of Yanping North Road, the narrow street crowded with vehicles attempting to navigate their way through the parked vehicles and tourists randomly crossing the road from one shop to another, the wares often spilling out onto the sidewalk, jewelry, traditional medicine, bags, shoes, clothing, nuts and seeds, dried fish products, spices, legumes, dried fruit, and packages of tea in all shapes and sizes, large regal signs and the inevitable potted plants, red lanterns and the like lending an air of respectability to the retail fray, the strip a paean to the humble local shophouse of tradition, yet even a cursory glance at the prices displayed illustrates the largely contrived nature of the retail experience. A visual draw is the architecture, the street one of the remaining repositories of decorative facades hearkening to the days of yore, with bas relief floral patterns, gilt lettering, voluptuously embellished parapet gables, all filtered through tangles of suspended electrical wiring.

I have to concede that the street is rich in charm, though! I weave through the side streets to the immediate west, looking for a coffee shop that doesn’t charge the excessive prices that are prevalent in the tourist areas of the inner city, and en route discover a car repair shop where a local enthusiast has brought in azure current model Alpine, an obscure French sports car model that I thought had long vanished into the annals of automotive history — but apparently not quite! And the coffee shop next impresses as well, the owner bashfully acknowledging my generous compliments for a coffee that is almost half the price of comparable beverages offered a mere few blocks away.

Closer to the water, some sort of maritime-themed installation is being built at the entrance to the Yanping Riverside Park that runs alongside the Tamsui river in the southwestern corner of Datong. Passing through the gate, I follow the paved walkway to the waterfront and am astonished at the dramatically different view of the city that opens up to me here, an expanse of light, the tended lawns and fecund canopies of the mature trees, the broad blue river, and the bristling office towers visible far in the distance. But here, so close to Taipei’s inner city, I find a haven of peace and tranquility, any misgivings about the crowded, busy urban environment quickly dissipating into an overarching sense of peace and equanimity.

A cluster of food carts has been set up along the waterfront, an ideal place to spend time in this tranquil setting, and given the selection of alcoholic beverages, probably an even better place in the evening, especially given how warm it is. But as much as I would love to indulge in some of the culinary selections, there is still enough daylight to return to the city and take in more sights. If there were a pocket of Taipei I would happily return to, it would be here!

Few other visitors meander through the park, as most of the population is at work, although cyclists occasionally drift along the ample paved paths. In an enclave sheltered by curtains of aerial banyan roots, a group of elderly men sits at a table with the requisite takeout food, immersed in a discussion presumably recounting mutual adventures deep in their past, momentarily astonished that I would want to take their picture.

The composition of the park shifts as I proceed slowly to the south, the city receding somewhat to the east while the Zhongxiao Bridge approaches, the views of the riverine environment, with its distant green hills partially shrouded by overhead cumulus tufts, as entrancing as the views of the city are not. Looking northward, it seems simply improbable that I could be in the centre of this huge city and enjoy such spectacular views of nature. As alluring as this minor riverside Eden may be, I do still want to explore portions of the inner city that I have not yet seen. And first, passing under the tangle of overpasses that feed onto Zhongxiao Bridge, the artful landscaping reclaiming an environment that could easily have degenerated into unsightly urban blight.

Into the core of the city, the behemoth of Taipei main station looming in the distance, other important business and administrative buildings making their mark on the environment, the sidewalk along Civic Boulevard wide and the cityscape landscaped with attention to detailing that characterizes the privileged portions of the inner city. It is now somewhat familiar, but not particularly rewarding to revisit.

The Museum of Contemporary Art beckons, simply because it is relatively close by; up to Chang’an West road, more characteristic of inner city Taipei, with its preternatural triste ambience, and where I can perhaps enjoy a quick and inexpensive late lunch prior to the last cultural indulgence of the day. I find an establishment whose brightly-lit interior and identical Formica tables are typical, but the mix-and-match noodle soup and meat combinations come with a characteristic flavour profile that is not at all to my liking.

The Museum of Contemporary Art is a somewhat incongruous affair, the long, two-story brick affair reminiscent of an early 20th century Belgian train station, but inside, the work on display careens wildly into the direction of the avant garde. In one room, the work could be best described as several piles of trash, the manner in which attendants ensure that visitors don’t risk disturbing the display quite comical. Another large room contains groupings of erect white fluorescent bulbs, the desired effect of which seems quite unclear. And the next room with innumerable small multi-colour cutouts of birds attached to the walls.

The crowning achievement of the exhibition is an installation that occupies are large portion of the upper floor, which involves a performance of sorts that takes place over a span of 3/4 of an hour. Unfortunately, I can’t think of more interesting things to do than spending the last portion of my visit watching the somewhat surreal spectacle, so I make myself comfortable on a bench lining the back wall of the room, and observe the proceedings. Sitting down and relaxing in a tranquil setting is hardly going to hurt me!

A handful of barren tree trunks have been erected through the room, and in the far corner, a giant, robotic hand that slowly pivots and the position of its fingers shifting to a backdrop of a changing kaleidoscope of coloured lighting washing over the space. Again, I am not quite sure of the message being conveyed, but the installation seems to hold a clutch of young local attendees seated next to the erect trunks transfixed. The hand remains in motion and the light spectacle continues to evolve through the course the piece, although the final portion doesn’t seem to suggest any particular conclusion.

Having ingested a skewed version of local culture, I take a few pictures of the atmospherically-lit building, its colonial-styling wildly disjoint with the architectural aesthetics of downtown Taipei, although the belt running northward to Zhongshan metro station is populated with a combination of creatively-designed benches and public art that is entirely befitting of the trendy nature of the eponymous neighborhood. Surrounded by the gleaming lights of hip retail spaces and eateries streaming from the depths of the adjoining alleys, I descend instead into the metro station and embark on my last trip to New Taipei City across the river …