Yesterday (May 9th) I was fortunate enough to stumble upon a parade for Matzu’s birthday. As one of Taiwan’s more important gods, this can be a good size parade with a diversity of gods participating.
At first I just watched as the procession turned past the Yung He Eslite and Aurora stores, but then I got the crazy idea to follow the march on my bike. When I noticed that some of the people in the parade were handing out sacred yellow papers, I quickly and politely asked a gentleman for one. With it came another, and another. Knowing these would serve me well in my Taoist research project, I carefully packed them into my knapsack.
The pageant moseyed along the road (we often called this “Korean Street” due to the large number of Korean merchants and food supply stores in the area) and turned along another busy boulevard. As I biked alongside the numerous displays, I was greeted with smiles – they were quite taken, it would seem, with a foreigner wandering with them.
We took another turn, this time down a narrow alley, where dozens of residents stood clutching three sticks of burning incense and the revered yellow documents being handed out by the parade members. About halfway down the alley there was a small group of men and women offering drinks to the procession’s participants. As I passed by, a woman also offered me a drink, and being slightly parched at that point, I accepted. It was a traditional Taiwanese sweet drink made from some sort of squash-like vegetable. It was delicious and hit the spot!
As I reached the e
nd of the alley things came to a stop. It would seem that everyone was taking a break – but in reality things were just starting to heat up. At the intersection where the laneway intersected with a main roadway piles of firecrackers were being blown up. More crowds of people, this time primarily older folks, were guiding the festivities and explosions! One woman started some small talk, and given my proficiency in Mandarin and Taiwanese, it was a short conversation. Nonetheless, she wondered where my camera was. When I inadvertently told her it was in my classroom – and not my home (proving that my Chinese was indeed miserable) – I thought that perhaps I should go home and get it. I hopped on my bike and was off in a flash – if only I knew where I was!
One of the hazards of the trade when following such a display of devotion when one is alone (that is to say DY was not with me), is that I don’t always know where I am, exactly. So I have made it a habit to look for optical clues to support me in my return from wherever I have been. Kind of like Hansel and Gretel, if you will, only I don’t leave behind a trail of crumbs. Instead I use visual identifiers – things that I can hopefully remember, such as memorable colours, pictures, or English words on things, usually buildings. So with every turn I make a mental image in my head of something that will hopefully connect with me as I make my way back. Anyway, since I am writing this, dear reader, you know that I made it back home safely.
I biked home quickly and grabbed my camera and kit. I hopped on the bike again and made a somewhat educated guess as to where I thought the caravan was headed, and arrived just in time to see three men holding detonating boxes of fireworks in their hands. They were discharging “shrieking” firecrackers, the kind that makes a high-pitched screech as it shoots tiny shots of light into the sky. But since it was broad daylight, one could not see any bursts of light, but only hear the ear-piercing screams!
I wandered over toward a small temple and was welcomed with smiles from the local practitioners. Seeing my camera, they motioned me to take pictures. Three young gods were playfully dancing in tribute to the temple gods. Two rather imposing “walking gods” and a third tall “old man” god also performed a ritual dance. Then, rather unceremoniously, the puppet-like costumes were lifted from the sweating mortals and propped into one of a half-dozen or so smoky glass cases in a side room located to the left of the main altar.
A gentleman came up to me and told me that there was another procession to follow, as this one was pretty much over. I followed where he pointed and saw more gods and palanquin in succession. Thus began my photo chronicle of Matzu’s birthday.
I wandered with the procession for between two and three hours, getting
to be quite familiar with many of them. I received smiles and waves and opportunities to take copious amounts of photographs. I was invited to enter a small Matzu temple, where two nuns were chanting, where I was told was a most beautiful Matzu. The temple was laden with an altar heavy with fruits and other offerings. The nuns completed their chant, bowed to one another and then saw me. They smiled and I asked if this was Matzu, which they confirmed. Knowing I was missing the parade, I thanked them and bade adieu.
Outside the noise and smell of fireworks was as thick as a storm cloud. Some participants wore masks while other simply held a cloth over their nose and mouth as they endured the magical fog they were continually subjected to. As a novice, I lapped it up, deciding to think that these mists were enchanting at the very least. A woman wearing a large straw hat and carrying two baskets suspended on the ends of bamboo poles, passed through the crowd offering candies and zhong-zi, triangular sticky rice wrapped in bamboo leaves. An older woman grabbed one and gave it to me. Further down this lane another woman gave me one even though I tried to explain that I already had one. And further still I was offered a third, but this time I was able to say that I had enough, thanks!
A teenaged brother and sister purposefully came to offer me pieces of bread. Then between their English and my Mandarin, we asked questions. They wanted to know how long I had been in Taiwan, while I wanted to know how long the parade might continue. I was able to answer their question, but they had no idea regarding mine. They took off, only to return a moment later with a Taiwanese sports drink, which they offered me. My pockets and camera bag full of goodies, I continued following the procession.
As we rounded a curve, a small temple in a tight alley was ready with firecrackers and incense burning. More and more young children appeared, as school was now out for the day, and many said hello and waved at me.
As I turned from the small intimate lane into a larger main street I looked at my watch and realized that I had been carried away for over two hours by the wave of emotion and devotion to Matzu. I considered following the march but realized that I had no idea where I was and that I could probably safely say that I had taken enough photographs at this point in time. As I waved goodbye and said zai-dian to many of the convoy’s participants, I began to attempt to retrace my steps back to my bicycle, parked at a little temple near my home.
The friendliness of everyone involved in this festival parade touched me greatly. The smiles and laughter and acceptance during this event have healed the pain of teaching English at ZS. I can only hope that my poor Mandarin will improve enough to allow me the opportunity to learn from the Taiwanese people about their rich Taoist culture.
At first I just watched as the procession turned past the Yung He Eslite and Aurora stores, but then I got the crazy idea to follow the march on my bike. When I noticed that some of the people in the parade were handing out sacred yellow papers, I quickly and politely asked a gentleman for one. With it came another, and another. Knowing these would serve me well in my Taoist research project, I carefully packed them into my knapsack.
The pageant moseyed along the road (we often called this “Korean Street” due to the large number of Korean merchants and food supply stores in the area) and turned along another busy boulevard. As I biked alongside the numerous displays, I was greeted with smiles – they were quite taken, it would seem, with a foreigner wandering with them.
We took another turn, this time down a narrow alley, where dozens of residents stood clutching three sticks of burning incense and the revered yellow documents being handed out by the parade members. About halfway down the alley there was a small group of men and women offering drinks to the procession’s participants. As I passed by, a woman also offered me a drink, and being slightly parched at that point, I accepted. It was a traditional Taiwanese sweet drink made from some sort of squash-like vegetable. It was delicious and hit the spot!
As I reached the e
nd of the alley things came to a stop. It would seem that everyone was taking a break – but in reality things were just starting to heat up. At the intersection where the laneway intersected with a main roadway piles of firecrackers were being blown up. More crowds of people, this time primarily older folks, were guiding the festivities and explosions! One woman started some small talk, and given my proficiency in Mandarin and Taiwanese, it was a short conversation. Nonetheless, she wondered where my camera was. When I inadvertently told her it was in my classroom – and not my home (proving that my Chinese was indeed miserable) – I thought that perhaps I should go home and get it. I hopped on my bike and was off in a flash – if only I knew where I was!One of the hazards of the trade when following such a display of devotion when one is alone (that is to say DY was not with me), is that I don’t always know where I am, exactly. So I have made it a habit to look for optical clues to support me in my return from wherever I have been. Kind of like Hansel and Gretel, if you will, only I don’t leave behind a trail of crumbs. Instead I use visual identifiers – things that I can hopefully remember, such as memorable colours, pictures, or English words on things, usually buildings. So with every turn I make a mental image in my head of something that will hopefully connect with me as I make my way back. Anyway, since I am writing this, dear reader, you know that I made it back home safely.
I biked home quickly and grabbed my camera and kit. I hopped on the bike again and made a somewhat educated guess as to where I thought the caravan was headed, and arrived just in time to see three men holding detonating boxes of fireworks in their hands. They were discharging “shrieking” firecrackers, the kind that makes a high-pitched screech as it shoots tiny shots of light into the sky. But since it was broad daylight, one could not see any bursts of light, but only hear the ear-piercing screams!
I wandered over toward a small temple and was welcomed with smiles from the local practitioners. Seeing my camera, they motioned me to take pictures. Three young gods were playfully dancing in tribute to the temple gods. Two rather imposing “walking gods” and a third tall “old man” god also performed a ritual dance. Then, rather unceremoniously, the puppet-like costumes were lifted from the sweating mortals and propped into one of a half-dozen or so smoky glass cases in a side room located to the left of the main altar.
A gentleman came up to me and told me that there was another procession to follow, as this one was pretty much over. I followed where he pointed and saw more gods and palanquin in succession. Thus began my photo chronicle of Matzu’s birthday.
I wandered with the procession for between two and three hours, getting
to be quite familiar with many of them. I received smiles and waves and opportunities to take copious amounts of photographs. I was invited to enter a small Matzu temple, where two nuns were chanting, where I was told was a most beautiful Matzu. The temple was laden with an altar heavy with fruits and other offerings. The nuns completed their chant, bowed to one another and then saw me. They smiled and I asked if this was Matzu, which they confirmed. Knowing I was missing the parade, I thanked them and bade adieu.Outside the noise and smell of fireworks was as thick as a storm cloud. Some participants wore masks while other simply held a cloth over their nose and mouth as they endured the magical fog they were continually subjected to. As a novice, I lapped it up, deciding to think that these mists were enchanting at the very least. A woman wearing a large straw hat and carrying two baskets suspended on the ends of bamboo poles, passed through the crowd offering candies and zhong-zi, triangular sticky rice wrapped in bamboo leaves. An older woman grabbed one and gave it to me. Further down this lane another woman gave me one even though I tried to explain that I already had one. And further still I was offered a third, but this time I was able to say that I had enough, thanks!
A teenaged brother and sister purposefully came to offer me pieces of bread. Then between their English and my Mandarin, we asked questions. They wanted to know how long I had been in Taiwan, while I wanted to know how long the parade might continue. I was able to answer their question, but they had no idea regarding mine. They took off, only to return a moment later with a Taiwanese sports drink, which they offered me. My pockets and camera bag full of goodies, I continued following the procession.
As we rounded a curve, a small temple in a tight alley was ready with firecrackers and incense burning. More and more young children appeared, as school was now out for the day, and many said hello and waved at me.
As I turned from the small intimate lane into a larger main street I looked at my watch and realized that I had been carried away for over two hours by the wave of emotion and devotion to Matzu. I considered following the march but realized that I had no idea where I was and that I could probably safely say that I had taken enough photographs at this point in time. As I waved goodbye and said zai-dian to many of the convoy’s participants, I began to attempt to retrace my steps back to my bicycle, parked at a little temple near my home.
The friendliness of everyone involved in this festival parade touched me greatly. The smiles and laughter and acceptance during this event have healed the pain of teaching English at ZS. I can only hope that my poor Mandarin will improve enough to allow me the opportunity to learn from the Taiwanese people about their rich Taoist culture.
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