I kicked off my current trip to China with two stopovers. The first one was in Taipei before I entered the mainland. I had long wanted to visit Taiwan, the short stay I did was just a feeler for future visits. Here is a few highlights:
I have two main purposes for coming to Taipei, the capital of Taiwan. One is to visit the National Palace Museum, and the other is to pay my respect to the late singer Teresa Teng at her graveside. I just wanted to see for myself how Teresa Teng is remembered as she is no longer with us physically.
On Oct. 20, I set out to do just that. It wasn't easy trying to find my way to the cemetery where the late pop diva is buried. Different people gave me different directions.
For those of us who are not familiar with Teresa Teng, this is an excellent summary.
teresatengblog.com/personality/Teresa Teng was a very popular and well-loved singer and entertainer. Her reach far exceeded that of a singer could. Her music reached every corner of the world where there is a Chinese community, however large or small.
Back in the late '70s and 1980s when I was working in Chinatown, I sold her records and cassettes by the thousands.
Competition was fierce in trying to land and custom-clear her latest releases flown in from Hong Kong. I had to work my charm and diplomacy at the air freight terminals and Australian Customs to clear the freight, and hit the shop shelves before the competitors. It was the happiest decade of my working life.
This is one of her early recording when her voice is still maturing, and before her signing with the big label of Polydor / Polygram. It is one of my favourites.
This is one of her big hits, a cover of a very old song. It is about a young woman bidding her lover farewell over an intimate meal, not knowing when they will meet again. Only a top scholar and musician could compose the music and pen the lyrics. It is intoxicating.
This is the original version of the same song recorded by a singer who also died young in tragic circumstances. I knew and loved this song way back in the 1950s when I was a little boy arriving in Hong Kong from China.
Both versions are equally captivating. It is tender, intimate and melancholic. It captures the mood of the turbulent time when the song was recorded.
Teresa Teng was never able to fulfill her cherished wish of seeing mainland China and to sing to her millions of fans in China in person.
There are just so many of her songs that I like. The above is another one of them.
The trip involved a ride on the Metro to the outskirts of Taipei, and changed to a small bus for a road trip of about an hour.
It is a scenic route which hugs the coastline and overlooks the South china Sea. There were no stoppages to take photos because it was a normal commuter bus. All along the rocky foreshore, I could see huge amount of plastic and Styrofoam washed up on the rocky foreshore. We also drove past a small wind farm generating electricity, in close proximity to a nuclear power station. It is quite a paradox.
This is our driver on the forward journey. He is very helpful and friendly. Once off the main road, it was a steep climb up a hill along a narrow road to the cemetery. It is a big, big cemetery with two or three large buildings along the way, one housing thousands of Buddhas.
The memorial park to Teresa Teng is just opposite the bus stop.
There are three other people, coming by taxi, all from Hong Kong . joining me. The man with the white shoulder bag has been here about five times. The other two are father and son duo from Japan. We came on the same bus.
I did not prepare myself for this. I was visibly affected by the experience of viewing the grave and final resting place of an artist whose records, cassettes and CDs I had sold by the thousands over a decade. It is a life tragically cut short.
The man with the white shoulder bag also tells me it still affects him on each visit.
On top of the stone slab are photos from her album covers. There are floral tributes delivered almost daily, considering she has been dead for twenty-one years, and those born after the 1980s would know little about her.
This man is a volunteer who comes here just about everyday for the last six or seven years, to look after the grave. It is the kind of deep affection people still lavish on the late singer.
Unusual feature of her memorial is that there are loudspeakers non-stop playing her songs minus the bright, upbeat ones. As you can see the low fence is like music staff. And there is a statue of Teresa in gold.
The hill is shrouded by rolling mist drifting in, and the music wafting from the speakers all combined to make my visit a memorable and melancholic one.
This is the waiting shed where the three of us, I, and the father and son duo from Japan, waited for over an hour for the bus. I think one run was cancelled.
There were more car-loads of people seen arriving whilst we were waiting for the bus.
I am not given to idol or hero worship, not at my age. Teresa is very special. She is what we would call 奇女子in Chinese, female persons whose deeds have far-reaching effects and influence