Catch it while you can, I say to myself. I have arrived in Taipei, capital of Taiwan, or the Republic of China, or the 23rd province of the People's Republic of China, depending on your point of view. And that's the point. While its future status remains a matter of controversy, as it has done for decades, this island offers a heady mix of manic urban life and stunning rural tranquillity that few get to see. I've taken the short flight from Hong Kong, where I briefly indulged myself at the Mandarin Oriental, overlooking the harbour, with its wonderful spa treatments and gourmet restaurants. But whereas Hong Kong has long been a global hub, Taiwan has remained relatively isolated, overtaken economically by the mainland and overlooked politically.
I want to see both the city and the island during my two-day jaunt and find an excellent taxi driver, Vincent (a former military policeman), to take me round. First place we stop is Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall. When the opposition group, the Democratic Progressive Party, came to power in 2000, it renamed the building the Taiwan Democracy Memorial Hall.
It also sought to remove icons of the former leader of the Kuomintang (Chinese Nationalist Party), the man who took on Mao Tse Tung's Communist Party in the Chinese Civil War, lost and fled to Taiwan in 1949. From here he ruled a government in exile for 25 years, effectively turning the island into a single-party state. In Taiwan, democracy is now vibrant, but it rarely proceeds smoothly. In one of the island's typical political twists, the outgoing DPP president, Chen Shui-bian, is now in prison on embezzlement charges, with the Kuomintang firmly back in charge. And for good measure, the Kuomintang has restored the hall to its original name.
The lavish grounds that house the Chiang Kai-shek hall also accommodate the National Theatre and National Concert Hall, shades perhaps of Lincoln Memorial and the Mall in Washington DC. You walk up 89 steps (89 was Chiang's age at his death in 1975) to reach the huge marble figure of a man seated, smiling and holding a walking stick — a pose replicated in other statues around the island.
If political kitsch is your thing, the museum downstairs will occupy you for hours. Photographs show Chiang meeting world leaders (or at least those few that recognised Taiwan after Richard Nixon had famously gone to mainland China in 1972 for a spot of Ping-Pong diplomacy). But the pièces de résistance are the two shining black Cadillac Fleetwoods, gleaming three-ton monsters from which Chiang would survey his island.
Taiwan has long been a religiously tolerant society, and temples are places not just of worship but of family gatherings. Longshan, in the venerable Wanhua neighbourhood of west Taipei, is one of the most evocative.
Different gods are worshipped in different shrines (many temples offer a pragmatic mix of Buddhism and Taoism). It is said that 165 deities are worshipped here, ranging from the goddess Matsu, who provides for the safe return of travellers, to the patron of scholarly pursuits on one side and the god of military pursuits on the other. I enjoy a spot of peoplewatching: one elderly woman finds a shady spot to eat her lunch; another throws small bricks that provide 'yes' or 'no' answers to any questions posed; a mother takes her daughter for marriage advice from the gods.
The north of the city is dominated by the imposing Grand Hotel, built in Qing dynasty style but actually in 1952 with majestic red columns and beams. The place retains a musty 'old money' atmosphere of official Taiwan in its prime. I have a quick runthrough but you can linger over tea and cakes, or have lunch or dinner in one of several old-fashioned restaurants. I'm keen to make the top of the hour, for the changing of the guard at the National Revolutionary Martyrs' Shrine, half a mile or so away. I watch the hourly acrobatic display of blue-uniformed and silver-helmeted soldiers twist and turn their bayoneted rifles. How they manage to spin their heavy guns on one hand, I can't begin to imagine.
