Life on Two Wheels: The Spirit of Taiwan
The second volume of Voices of Taiwan explores the profound significance of the scooter—an icon that beats at the heart of the island’s daily rhythm. From the intricate web of city alleys to the rugged mountain spines and sweeping coastlines, Taiwan’s “scooter lifestyle” embodies a spirit of unbridled freedom and effortless mobility. These two-wheelers do more than carry us through traffic; they keep us connected to the pulse of the land, inspiring a uniquely creative way of living. It is said that if a destination is more than a three-minute walk away, a Taiwanese person will instinctively reach for their keys. What has made this vehicle less of a machine and more of a vital “organ” for the people of Taiwan? Join us as we uncover the soul of Taiwan through its riders.
In Taiwan, the rhythm of the road is dictated by the hum of countless scooters. It is a rare household that does not possess at least one; for many, the true “rite of passage” into adulthood at eighteen is not a formal ceremony, but the hard-earned acquisition of a scooter license. This ubiquity has birthed a thriving ecosystem of “shared scooters” accessible in every corner of the city. Interestingly, the scooter has even shaped our local vernacular. Calling someone Ji-che (literally “scooter”) is a common way to describe a person who is being difficult or fastidious. This quirky dates back to an era when early models were notoriously temperamental and required frequent, tedious maintenance.
Hitting the Road: Encountering the Soul of Taiwan
In regions where public transit is still finding its stride, the scooter has stepped in as a practical necessity—supported by government subsidies to keep the nation moving. Yet, the essence of Taiwan’s scooter culture lies in the “process.” The vehicle is perfectly adapted to the island’s undulating terrain and dense urban landscapes. We see riders embarking on huan-dao (island-circling) expeditions, using their two-wheelers to bridge the gap between cities and rural villages, often making friends with elderly locals along the way. In the city, the scooter serves as a tool for “urban strolling.” It is a uniquely Taiwanese experience to see neighbors gliding through bustling traditional markets without ever dismounting. Whether navigating the serpentine curves of a mountain pass or the intimate embrace of a narrow alley, the agility of the scooter brings us closer to the authentic texture of this land.
While many view the scooter merely as a purely pragmatic tool for the daily commute, others find a quiet poetry in the relics of the past. Aficionados of vintage models—such as the iconic Honda Cub (locally cherished as Chin-Wang) and the classic Vespa—willingly embrace the “inconveniences” of manual gears and vintage mechanics. For these riders, steering an aging machine is a deliberate act of nostalgia; it is a way to preserve a “slow living” sentiment within the frantic pace of modern Taiwan.
Island Circuit: A Photographic Collection
We spoke with photographer Zhutor, the observant eye behind the evocative photographic collection,“Little did I know I had gone so far.” By documenting a complete circuit of the island, this collection captures the shifting landscapes from cities to countrysides, while preserving the heartwarming human connections and fleeting moments of local life discovered along the winding road of Taiwan.
Could you tell us about the year and model of your scooter? More importantly, what is it that makes your bond with this machine so irreplaceable?
Back in college, my family took me to a secondhand shop to buy a generic ‘plastic-clad’ scooter—the model was so forgettable I have lost it to memory. Since the scooter needed maintenance and was not ready for immediate pickup, I secretly snuck back alone and asked the owner to let me swap it for a manual motorcycle instead. At the time, I had not considered my height, nor the steep learning curve of shifting gears. The owner ended up giving me a crash course on the spot, and I spent the rest of the day wobbling and inching my way back to the dorms.
I practiced relentlessly in the parking lot. Because my campus was nestled in the mountains, I had to master hill starts—a grueling cycle of stalling and breaking into cold sweats. But once the rhythm became second nature, those rides transformed into pure liberation. I fell in love with its raw, mechanical tactility. It offered me the beautiful illusion of being in total control. The bike even has a name, given by a close friend: “Wan-Jun.”
As a photographer, how did that journey reshape your view of Taiwan? Beyond the scenery, what specific textures—the brickwork, the architecture, the local life—left the deepest impression? Ultimately, how did the intimacy of a scooter provide you with a different lens to understand this island?
Circling the island allowed me to sharpen the “map of Taiwan” in my mind, breaking the subconscious habit of crudely categorizing the island into “rural” versus “urban.” I realized that even within my own roots in Yunlin, the coastal and mountain regions are worlds apart—let alone the rest of the island.
I loved seeing my favorite fruits still ripening on the branch before harvest, and discovering the quirky humor tucked away in local billboards. Faith is omnipresent yet incredibly diverse—where Jesus and Mazu might reside as next-door neighbors. The sensory landscape was constantly shifting: the air would suddenly carry the scent of chicken manure, only to be replaced by the scent of ducks or pigs a few miles down the road. Tin-roofed houses, traditional Sanheyuan courtyards , and even those impossibly elongated houses… Even where people were out of sight, the traces of their lives and the origins of the things we hold in our hands. This journey left me with a profound reverence for every encounter and every gift life offers.
You chose a minimalist approach, traveling with only a basic tent setup. Could you share what you carried on your bike and on your person? To you, what kind of experience does this ‘essentialist’ lifestyle offer?
On my bike, I carried only the essentials: a tent, sleeping bag, sleeping pad, camping lantern, flip-flops, toiletries, a small bottle of detergent, and a high-capacity power bank. My hiking pack held a water bottle, two changes of clothes, a jacket, my camera gear, and a copy of Werner Herzog’s Of Walking in Ice. This minimalist setup was a deliberate inquiry into what truly matters. In our daily lives, we are overwhelmed by digital noise, hoarding possessions out of a fear of missing out. Stripping everything back was my way of silencing that anxiety.
Living by the rhythm of the sun, the daily cycle of the road felt like a spiritual discipline—a form of Vipassana meditation. I would wake at dawn to strike camp, spend the day riding and eating, only to find a spot at sunset to camp, light a lamp, and write or read. This minimalism was a very intuitive way to practice decluttering; it was a process of shedding the external to finally hear the internal.
Beyond your island circuit in Taiwan, you are also an avid fan of international road trips. In your experience, what defines the difference between these two modes of travel? How does the intimacy of a scooter compare to the classic allure of a cross-country car journey?
Road tripping by car is an exhilarating experience; it feels like traveling with your entire home on wheels. Due to the vehicle’s sheer scale and sense of security, you might not be able to linger too long or get too close to the surroundings, but it allows you to efficiently “hunt” for scenes across vast horizons.
Scooter travel, however, feels much more intimate with the land and its people. You stop on a whim, speed through the mundane, and slow down to savor the view. The journey becomes more nuanced and tactile, often leading to spontaneous conversations with strangers along the way. (Though, I must admit, your backside definitely pays the price after a long day in the saddle!)
Could you share a specific story from the road that truly captures the heart of Taiwan’s Ren-qing-wei—that unique sense of human warmth and hospitality?
I usually pitched my tent in the open courtyards in front of local temples. Once, I came across a temple with a community center, but there was no caretaker in sight. A few residents, noticing a stranger ‘scouting’ the premises, approached me with curiosity. After learning what I was up to, they simply said, “Some students camped here before; it should be fine.” That temple was strikingly vibrant after dark. From seven until well past nine, the air was filled with the hum of neighbors gathered around large tables, sharing drinks and stories, while the plaza buzzed with local activities. It was a very vibrant community.
The next morning, one of the residents came by to ask if I had slept well and brought me a bag of fruit and Sachima (sweet crispy flour cakes). “You’re a girl bravely chasing her dreams! Take these for the road!” he said. That line was so endearingly cringey that I still burst out laughing every time I think back on it.
Later, I stopped at the noodle stall he recommended next door. A meal of noodles, soup, a braised egg, a meatball, and bean curd skin—all for a staggering 50 NTD. In that town, people were constantly drifting in and out, and everyone seemed eager to strike a conversation with the newcomer. It was such a lovely place. Similar encounters happened several times throughout my journey. Strangers were always trying to give me fruit into my hands, to the point where “Wan-Jun” was draped in offerings. At the height of it, a heavy bag dangled from each handlebar—one containing two massive pomelos, the other overflowing with oranges.
Paws on the Pedals: The Unique Bond of Taiwanese Riders and Their Dogs
Notice: The following images may depict actions that may not comply with local regulation. Please do not attempt.
Rider’s Essentials: The Scooter Accessories
Riding a scooter in Taiwan is a statement of personal style. We have curated a selection of trendy accessories to show you what “authentic local style” is all about.
Scooter Life in Taiwan: What to Know Before You Ride
➊ The Three-Person Ride: You will often see families of three squeezed onto a single scooter. While a common sight, please note that “triple riding” is technically illegal—keep it to two for a smooth ride!
➋ Helmets and Countryside Lore: In rural areas, you might spot elders riding without helmets. Legend has it that some local jurisdictions have “unspoken understandings” with the police on certain backroads. However, we strongly recommend wearing yours—safety first!
➌ Turn Rules: Taiwan has many one-way streets and the famous “Two-Stage Left Turn” (Hook Turn). Keep a sharp eye out for these traffic signs.
➍ The Helmet-Friendly Society: Feel free to walk into any convenience store with your helmet on. You will not be mistaken for a bank robber; here, it is just the standard uniform for a quick snack run.
➎ The Laundry Basket Sidecar: If you see a dog sitting in a laundry basket on a scooter floorboard, don’t panic! It is not a legal breach; it is just a local commuter heading home with their best friend.
➏ The “7-Second Challenge”: Every rider in Taiwan must pass a “7-second straight-line balance test” to get their license. This is why locals are masters at crawling at a snail’s pace while waiting for the light to turn green.
➐ The 3-Minute Rule: For many Taiwanese people, any destination that takes more than three minutes to reach on foot is officially considered “scooter distance.”
Events
01｜
Cloud Gate Dance Theatre: A Double Bill—”Blue Hour” & “Beckoning”
This year, Cloud Gate Dance Theatre of Taiwan presents a double bill, revisiting two pivotal works from Artistic Director Cheng Tsung-Lung’s formative years: Blue Hour and Beckoning. Originally debuted during the “Spring Riot” series in 2013 and 2015, these pieces have since graced the stages of global cultural capitals, from New York, London, Beijing, Shanghai, and Singapore.
The program offers two contrasting sides of the choreographer’s voice: one born from the restless, sleepless nights of life abroad, the other rising from the spirited temple courtyards of home. Together, these stylistically distinct works trace the dual paths of Cheng’s creative journey during his tenure as Artistic Director of Cloud Gate 2. For the first time, audiences can witness his artistic evolution through a double bill—observing the profound transition from introspective silence to the vibrant clamor of the land.
02｜
World Baseball Classic 2026
The 2026 World Baseball Classic is set to kick off on March 5, with Team Taiwan taking its place in Pool C at the iconic Tokyo Dome. Taiwan is a nation defined by its devotion to baseball—a passion that dates back to the sport’s introduction in 1906 during the Japanese colonial era. Over the past century, baseball has evolved from a simple pastime into the fabric of Taiwanese life and culture. In a landscape defined by complex political realities, the baseball diamond has long served as a vital stage for Taiwan to assert its presence and pride on the world stage. Today, this collective “baseball soul” is more vibrant than ever, fueled by the island’s unique cheerleading culture, the prowess of Taiwanese stars in international leagues, and the historic championship victory at the 2024 WBSC Premier12. These triumphs have done more than fill trophy cabinets; they have solidified baseball as Taiwan’s ultimate unifying force and an unfailing source of national glory.
Editor’s Picks
01｜
Made in Taiwan: Recipes and Stories from the Island Nation
Through a vibrant exploration of culinary traditions, this book unveils Taiwan’s distinctive history and ethnic plurality. A quintessential example is Baicailu (Napa Cabbage Stew), a classic dish born from the island’s iconic Ban-zhuo (辦桌)—the traditional communal banquets held for weddings and major life milestones. Originally a clever way to repurpose surplus ingredients from these grand feasts, this stew serves as a soulful symbol of a bygone era, reflecting the resourcefulness and spirit of mutual aid that sustained Taiwanese society during leaner times. Beyond its humble origins, each ingredient mirrors both local agricultural bounty and the diverse culinary heritage of the island’s different ethnic groups. By gathering these everyday flavors, Made in Taiwan offers a vivid portrait of life and heritage on this resilient island.
02｜
Cultural Tradition: The Art of the Spring Couplet
As the lunar year draws to a close, Taiwan buzzes with the energy of Lunar New Year preparations, with the festive spirit permeating everything from traditional holiday markets to e-commerce platforms. At the heart of this celebration is the chunlian (Spring Couplet)—an indispensable tradition now being reimagined with a playful, modern twist. On platforms like Pinkoi, designers are embracing the Year of the Horse, crafting witty puns and contemporary slogans that breathe new life into the zodiac.
While traditional characters such as “Fu” (福), meaning blessing or good fortune, and “Chun” (春), representing spring and renewal, remain timeless, there is a growing trend for creative reinterpretations. By leveraging digital platforms, a new generation of designers and artists has expanded the medium, transforming the Spring Couplet from a simple wish for luck into a vibrant vessel for cultural expression. In these creative scrolls, the people of Taiwan find a perfect harmony between ancestral heritage and modern aesthetics.
New Articles
01.Hua Gu Barbershop: Artistry Within the Everyday
Hua Gu Barbershop was established in 1976 by the parents of Tseng Ching-Chun. To fulfill a long-held dream twenty-nine years ago, they relocated to Anping commissioning a bespoke European-style residence to house their vision. Spanning four levels, including a basement, this striking building was a multifaceted social hub—combining a barbershop with private massage suites, karaoke lounges, a staff cafeteria, and dormitories. This was the golden age of the “Taiwan Miracle,” an era when prosperity was so boundless it was said that “Taiwanese money was ankle-deep.” As Tseng’s mother reminisces, “Wealth seemed to find us effortlessly.” In those days, exceptional skill and a tireless work ethic were the only currency needed for success. What began as a modest shop with just two barber chairs evolved into a grand business. At its peak, Hua Gu boasted nearly thirty barber chairs and a rotating staff of over twenty massage therapists and twelve barbers, all supported by a front desk manager, an accountant, and a dedicated cook.
Inside the barbershop, a unique form of “cross-industry alliances” thrived. More than a simple place for grooming, the shop functioned as a communal hub for independent artisans—massage therapists, manicurists, and shoe-shiners—who operated under the shop’s wing, a localized practice known as kao-hang (靠行). Their partnerships with the barbershop were diverse; while many followed a commission-sharing model, others thrived through a unique system of barter. In an environment where male staff were scarce, these practitioners often traded their technical labor for floor space, maintaining the sanctuary by changing lightbulbs or repairing equipment, in lieu of rent.
02. Chou Wen-Chin and the Documentary I Dream of the Ocean
Drawing from Chou Wen-Chin’s extensive experience in ecological filmmaking, he maintained an exceptionally humble presence throughout his time on Orchid Island. “We approached this film without any preconceived ‘authorial ego.’ Instead, we aimed for a total reset—a blank slate—knowing how much we had yet to learn about their economy, culture and daily habits,” Chou explains. His ethical stance as a documentarian is unwavering: if forced to choose between winning an award and ensuring no harm is done to his subjects, he will always choose the latter. For Chou, this means setting aside a dominant directorial lens in favor of a more restrained, gentle, and non-intrusive approach.
Consequently, from conception to completion, I Dream of the Ocean remained anchored to two core missions. “First, I want audiences to recognize the incredible ethnic diversity of Taiwan and realize that while the Tao people have been here for generations, their culture and history remain largely unexplored by the public. I hope it inspires a genuine desire to understand them, or perhaps even to set foot on Orchid Island,” Chou says. The second mission was to illuminate the life of Syaman Rapongan, the renowned Tao maritime author. “After watching this documentary, my hope is that you will connect with him as a person, and feel a natural curiosity to delve into his writings and discover the world through his eyes.”
03. A Path from Our Shores: The Taiwan Inside Passage Expedition
On the night of May 31, 2025, Wu Meng-Chu, Teng Chung-Fu, and Kuo Yen-Jen—members of the Taiwan Kayak Expedition arrived at the airport alongside a cheering squad of family and friends. An extraordinary energy crackled in the air, a restless blend of warm camaraderie, nervous tension, and pure excitement. In just four days, they would embark on a 61-day odyssey covering approximately 1,600 kilometers, paddling from Victoria, Canada, through the formidable Inside Passage to their final destination: Skagway, Alaska.
In Taiwan, the concept of “outdoor adventure” remains deeply rooted in the familiar trails of high-altitude mountaineering. Long-distance trekking, cycling, or sea kayaking across open waters are still frontiers explored. Facing a void of domestic resources, the trio became modern-day trailblazers. They scoured fragmented international records, piecing together routes and logistics from scratch. Through their sheer resolve, they have carved a new course for long-distance exploration, proving that a path to the great unknown can indeed begin from the shores of Taiwan.
CREDIT
Text
Li Tzu-ying, Kuo Chen-yu, Hsu Yun-han
Translation
Chou Ting-Ting, Yang Yin-Yin
Photography
Zhutor, Li Tzu-ying
Editing
Li Tzu-ying, Kuo Chen-yu, Hsu Yun-han
Design
Chen Wei , Li Tzu-ying
Image Source
FLATICON