Mushan Market

My passion for Mushan Market was inspired by photos in the book The People of Mushan （1960） by American professor Howard Rusk Long from the Missouri School of Journalism. The photos were taken during the 1950s when Rusk was teaching at National Chengchi University in Taipei.

In the early 1990s， my friend Yang Hsienching， a poet， showed me the book when he returned to Taiwan. I was mesmerized by the bustling Mushan Market， and my curiosity piqued.

Over the past few years， I started hanging around markets， absorbing the perpetual bustle of shoppers jostling amongst each other. The only difference from what I saw in the book is the market transforming from two-dimensional blackand-white to a colorful dynamic display before my own eyes.

Mushan is my favorite place in Taipei. I take a bus， get off at the old bus terminal， and then walk through an arcade， the lowest of its kind in Taipei， enjoying a unique view of the marketplace in the old downtown area.

Vegetable markets in Taipei can be classified into two types： peripheral and downtown. Most markets in the periphery are larger and located at the foot of mountains. To better understand markets in Taipei， one must visit several places， such as Danshui， Beitou， Mushan， Xindian， and Shulin. Those downtown are comparatively small and near residential areas. The most famous urban markets include Shuiyuan， Shilin， Zhongshan， Nanmen， Yongle， and Sanshui.

Markets vary according to the needs of different communities.

Generally speaking， peripheral markets provide larger-volume produce and a wider choice， while those downtown offer high-end dry goods， pastries， and top-shelf produce.

Mushan Market， established about a century ago， is located in the suburbs of the city， with crops supplied from the surrounding mountain areas， including Maokong， Caonan， and Poneikeng as well as native products from vast expanses of hills， such as Shiding， Shenkeng， and Pingxi.

Small， beautiful waterside towns provide various products from the southern rim of the basin， highly sought-after cooking materials.

Improving transportation infrastructure over the last few years， such as the opening of a tunnel through Mt. Xueshan， has quickened delivery of agricultural products from I-lan and other places to Taipei， thus enhancing the markets in the north and highlighting the sharp contrast between northern and southern Taipei.

Residents of Patauw enjoy traditional agricultural products thanks to sufficient supply from mountain areas， such as Banling， Cukeng， Shibaifen， and Xiaopingding， in addition to fruits， vegetables， and rice from the marsh and plains of Kwan-tu. Here， crowds flow through centuries-old lanes， creating the illusion of a floating world.

Every time I visit Mushan， I start at Kaiyuan Street， which is sandwiched by grocery stores. The most fascinating views are the corners of the market where 30 or 40 farmer vendors from mountain areas operate. Those who live far away shuttle there by bus every day.

Farmer vendors can be found almost everywhere in Taipei. They are easily recognized by the products they sell.

In villages and towns in central and southern Taiwan， farmers don’t worry about police. In remote areas， they sell vegetables and fruits from small handcarts， even to police officers. In the basin of Taipei， farmer vendors prefer doing business on the outskirts， where they can easily find space， rather than going downtown， where they must fight for a tiny spot. Those who do secure urban space remain restless： Police could approach them at any time.

Therefore， sales on the outskirts are comparatively safe， while vendors in Mushan endure danger of being driven away. For this reason， I often see farmers selling handfuls of vegetables in bags or baskets. From time to time， they glance around to look for signs of police.

They don’t work alone. With greater numbers of eyes， they can more easily warn each other and evade arrest. They carry small bags and baskets so they can move fast. Those who sell fruits and vegetables from carts are easily fined for operating in a restricted location or lacking permission from shop owners. Most vendors with carts seem to be old women.

The fruits and vegetables in a traditional market drastically contrast the offerings of massive supermarkets： fresh and authentic as if they were harvested moments ago. The produce found in large supermarkets is usually on its final leg before spoiling. And， considering the long， complicated process of packing， wholesaling and retailing， I would rather avoid it.

The chance of eating chemical-tainted fruits and vegetables drops if you learn about the origins and planting process by chatting with farmers in the markets. Most of the time， their vegetables and fruits are fresh even though they don’t look as beautiful as those on the shelves in supermarkets. They are home grown. The farmers sell the surplus from their own dinner table.

Perhaps I am most impressed by discovering vegetables I once ate long ago， or exceptionally rare fruits. The variety of produce offerings in markets dwarfs supermarkets， which attempt to impress customers with exotic produce.

For example， in supermarkets， I can hardly find common vegetables such as spinach， kidney beans，“purple passion”， turnips， and purslane. Why？ Because suppliers dislike them in terms of demand， cultivation needs， and distribution. Vegetable growers for supermarket suppliers have to follow a contract and plant what is ordered and don’t take chances on producing a surplus.

Traditional markets， on the other hand， are free to try growing a wide variety of vegetables and fruits to test their market performance first-hand after quick and direct delivery： They sell fresh， natural， and organic products.

I like to maximize my time with vendors by buying a couple of their goods to inspire further communication. I’ll drop back later and chat with them further， always learning something new about fruits and vegetables： their origins and the efforts taken to cultivate them. I can also acquire agricultural information. Prices are comparatively high， and products are not always free of chemicals.

Sometimes we talk about fertilizer， weed control， and de-worming. They often share their experiences growing certain kinds of vegetables and how color changes with chemical usage. We also talk about big issues， such as changes in the geographical environment and technical problems.

Fruits and vegetables grown in Hsinchu distinctively contrast those from Taipei. In winter， the mountain areas in Mushan are rainy. The temperature drops for a long period of time， and sunlight is insufficient. Eventually， I learned ways to elicit clues about the origins of fruits and vegetables and now I get suspicious upon seeing them too beautiful.

I can find cheap， tasty snacks in every market. Usually， they are not widely famous， but very popular in that specific locale. These shops don’t worry about branding because they already get regular customers.

Such shops can be found in Mushan. Luodong Salty Chicken， for instance， is always crowded. Famous for smoked chicken， it serves fresh pheasants delivered every morning from Lanyang. As soon as the door opens， a crowd mobs the counter wildly. Those who shout loudest get their order quickest. The smoked chicken always sells out in less than two hours.

A long queue can always be found at a store offering lightly-fried steamed buns. A sign at the door has become famous： Along with a price list， it reminds customers not to pull out money because thieves are watching.

A bean curd store formerly next door has left for Zhinan Road. The many choices remind me of food safety.

A few Vietnamese grocers in the depths of the narrow lanes always offer fresh goods from the outside， arousing my curiosity about future changes of ingredients.

After all， Mushan is my classroom for buying fruits and vegetables， both in downtown Taipei and on its outskirts. I take notes on what to eat from where， so I have a clearer idea about trends and can enjoy the best food at the right places.

This type of life is a lot of fun for me， and can be for others too.

My Vegetable Basket

By Liu Ka-shiang， Shanghai People’s

Publishing House， January 2014

“One place I must visit when I travel to a new place is vegetable market， through which I can estimate the city’s natural surroundings by observing vegetables and grains on the market，”illustrates Liu Ka-shiang， a writer based in Taiwan. His great concern for birds， animals， ecology， and environmental protection brought him nicknames such as “birdie” and “mountain man.”

However， Liu calls himself a “commentator on naturalistic observation.”For approximately 30 years， he has been committed to naturalistic observation， visiting places of historical interest and exploring old routes. His insights about historical figures and stories on ecology and the environment can all be found in his books， poetry and other creative works， which have made him a prominent nature writer advocating ecological protection. The Future Is Now， one of his stories， has been included in textbooks for primary and middle schools in Taiwan.

My Vegetable Market， his latest work， is about experiences wandering around， tasting food， and getting to know locales through observation of vegetables， fruits， and snacks. Liu’s paramount concern is the origin of food materials we use everyday： rice， wheat， canola oil， eggs， and other food products we take for granted. He likes to investigate vegetable markets and chat with vendors and farmers. However， he usually brings home exotic vegetables rather than local products.

“Some foods are disappearing due to changing tastes， hastening the development of new species，” he explains in his book. “Not only is the food lost， but days past can never return.” His writing is believed to inspire readers’ warm memories of what they ate growing up.

One Day Chinese

By Li Xinyue and Li Yu，

China CITIC Press， August 2014

The book depicts ordinary people’s life in China through photos， aiming for a comprehensive picture. Some are warm and sweet， others sad and sour， yet full of hope. All photos are courtesy of QQphoto， showcasing lives of ordinary Chinese people， regardless of occupation or social position.

The publication is divided into four parts： Craftsmanship Inheritance， Trades Beings， Loneliness Commitment， Determination Dreams.

Since it went live on January 1， 2010， QQphoto has recounted one story of one person every day， a celebrity or an employee， from all walks of life. Today， it has published 1，600 issues， drawing over 190，000 followers with daily clicks surpassing two million. A single post can get up to 10，000 comments.

Those Days at Yannanyuan

By Tang Yijie， Yue Daiyun， Tang Dan and Tang Shuang， Jiangsu Phoenix Literature and

Art Publishing Ltd.， August 2014

Tang Yijie was a professor of philosophy at Peking University， and Yue Daiyun， his wife， is a pioneer of comparative literature in China. In 1952， Peking University allocated Tang Yongtong， Tang Yijie’s father， then vice president of the school， a house at 58 Yannanyuan. The son continued sharing the roof with his father after marriage. In his 80s， Tang， together with his wife， his daughter Tang Dan and son Tang Shuang， decided to write prose of the complex memories of the intellectual family across three generations and over half a century.

Dr. Tang passed away on September 9， 2014， in Beijing at the age of 87. Born in 1927 in Hubei Province， he graduated from the Department of Philosophy of Peking University in 1951 and stayed on as a teacher. He obtained a Ph.D. from McMaster University in Canada in 1990 and an honorary Ph.D. from Kansai University in Japan in 2006. He founded a handful of institutions for academic research， such as Chinese Academy of Classic Learning and Research Institute of Chinese Philosophy and Culture.

He also published a number of books on ancient Chinese philosophy such as History of Early Taoism and Buddhism and Chinese Culture， and compiled masterpieces of Western and Chinese philosophy， such as The Flow of Western Philosophy in the 20th Century， Confucian Canon， and Chinese Confucian History.

Yue Daiyun is an eminent theorist on comparative literature， critic， writer， translator， and educator. She graduated from the Chinese Department of Peking University in 1952 and taught there until her retirement. She once studied at Harvard University as a visiting scholar， and now serves as professor and tutor for doctoral candidates in modern and comparative literature at Peking University.

Bean Voting

By Emerson M.S. Niou and Mi Youlu， China Renmin University Press，

August 2014

People recognize beans as an ordinary food， but few are aware of legumes’ political role during the height of ancient Greece and Rome， during the medieval dark ages in Europe， and all the way up to the 20th Century in the ancient Eastern country. Today， few care about the political meaning of beans， yet the legacy they left is unforgettable. Perhaps the valuable takeaway is beans’ power to accelerate political progress around the world.

Bean Voting is composed of three parts. The first introduces secret balloting methods in Western countries and their roots in ancient Greece and Rome， covering democratic methods in medieval Europe and their evolution in the U.K.， U.S.， and Australia during the 18th and 19th centuries. The second part recounts stories of Chinese bean voting. The last summarizes lessons and positive outcomes bean voting produced for democratic progress in China.

Professor Emerson M.S. Niou， a native of Taiwan， graduated from the Political Department of Taiwan University in 1981. He obtained a Ph.D. from the University of Texas at Austin in 1987 and taught in the Political Department of the State University of New York at Stony Brook until becoming director of the Asian Security Studies program at Duke University in 1988.

Over the last few years， Dr. Niou has been researching formal theory， international relations， political economics， and East Asian politics.

Mi Youlu， from Shanxi Province， graduated from the Political Department of Shanxi University in 1982. He was cited as one of China’s Top 100 Publishers and recipient of the Taofen Publishing Award. Long committed to self-governance of villagers and urban residents in China， he serves as editor-in-chief of journals such as Villages and Townships and Communities. During the late 1980s， Mi collaborated with other writers to produce New Trend： Rural China and Its Future and Changing Families in Rural China.