8 - Yangmingshan（陽明山）
This place was something of a holy grail to me for a long time. It was one of the few Taiwanese attractions that my mom had heard of. Since it was not too far from Taipei, I figured that I'd be able to see it at some point during my year in Taiwan. How hard could that be?
Harder than I thought, it turned out. In August, travelling around Taipei with some fellow English teachers, I suggested that we go to Yangmingshan. However, getting there would be too troublesome, and time was limited. We had a good meal at the Taipei 101's Din Tai Fung instead. No trouble with that. I still had ten more months, after all.
Many months later, in February, I visited my Aunt Ming in Taipei for the Lantern Festival. On Saturday night, we admired the dazzling light displays hung up along Zhongxiao Road. On Sunday, I resolved to go to Yangmingshan. I took the train to Jiantan Station, and boarded the bus to Qingtiangang. But as the bus climbed up the mountain, the weather grew hopelessly foggy, to the point where nothing at all could be seen. Eventually, at Lengshuikou, the bus driver announced that he wouldn't be able to drive any further.
As I was starting to exit the bus, I realized that I couldn't find my wallet. Without all of my cash and ID cards, I would be a complete nobody. The wallet wasn't anywhere on the seats. I pleaded with fellow passengers to sympathize with my situation. They did, but couldn't do very much. Then, a few minutes later, I found that my wallet had been in my jacket pocket all along. I usually kept it in my pants pocket, but in a stupour of carelessness, I had stashed it elsewhere. These five hellish minutes had sufficiently spooked me to call off my quest for Yangmingshan. Rarely in my life have I ever felt so humbled.
Some time later, in May, I saw that the following weekend's weather would be sunny. I made my travel arrangements for Yangmingshan immediately, and it was glorious. I got off the bus at the entrance to the Juansi Falls trail. It was a pleasant, forested romp along some Qing era stone aqueducts, leading to a wispy cataract that plunged into a clear blue stream. The trail subsequently climbed some hills, linking up to the Qingtiantang Loop. On such a clear day, the grasses shone radiant green. Water buffalo happily sat and snacked in the fields.
I ambled over to Seven Star Mountain, via a quaint path that wove through a pine forest planted by the Japanese. There was a milky white pond and an impressive suspension bridge by the foot of the mountain. The hike itself was steep, and the trail narrow. If it weren't for my umbrella, the midday sun would have badly burned my face. The views of the city were spectacular, though. On the way back down, by Lengshuikou, I passed some fumaroles cut into the face of the mountain, and enjoyed wafting the sulfur-scented steams. Then I boarded a bus back to the city.