Today was a whistle-stop tour of Taipei, continuing my focus on the legacies of Chiang Kai-shek and the Kuomintang. I started at the memorial to its founder, Sun Yat-sen, who was instrumental in establishing the Republic of China in 1912 — still Taiwan's official name. It was built by Chiang's government in the 1970s and would heavily inspire his own memorial constructed the following decade, which I visited afterwards.
The epic ascent up the 87 steps to Chiang's pharaonic statue symbolises the remarkable legacy left by his 87 years on this earth. I shall expect such scrupulous attention to detail on my own mausoleum.
I next headed to the shrine of revolutionary martyrs, which was similarly jingoistic. A personal favourite was Xiong Qi-Lao who, after being severely wounded, crawled towards enemy forces and threw himself in front of a machine gun to shield his comrades. I caught the changing of the guard at all three memorials for some added pomp and circumstance.
The day's highlight was a chance encounter with a fairly nondescript statue a stone's throw from the Presidential Office Building. It seems this former chairman of China's National Government is now best remembered for living to 75 allegedly by eating plums stored in the private parts of virgin girls.
A final place of note was the National Palace Museum. It houses nearly 700,000 imperial treasures taken largely from the Forbidden City during the Nationalists' retreat from the mainland. I'd hoped to better understand the logistics entailed in this impressive operation and the significance of such cultural patrimony for a regime trying to confer legitimacy on itself as China's rightful government. Alas, this information was not forthcoming. I settled instead for appreciating the feats of this great civilisation, epitomised by some jasper carved to resemble a sumptuous piece of pork belly — for which I'm sure Hashem would make an exception.