The Gondola (Taipei, Taiwan)

When I'd posted a question on the local FB group for international teachers about where to go in Taipei (English teachers in Korea are nothing if not travel-hungry), one woman generously gave me her own Taiwan itinerary, brochures, maps, and currency conversion chart.  Then, on our first afternoon in Taipei, we piled up all the info from "LinZee" and all the brochures and maps we'd gathered from the airport and hotel lobby; divided the stack amongst us to review; and stated our Top Three Things to do on vacation.  (Sane, organized people might wonder why in the world we'd waited quite so long to plan our trip, but that's not a story I'd like accessible to google's far-reaching arm and forever-lasting memory, so let's just move along).  I fell in love with the Maokong Gondola, which was on LinZee's itinerary; its brochure had dancing panda cartoons on it (ah, Asians and cartoon characters) going up The Emerald Mountains in cable cars.

For some reason, I never even opened the darn brochure, realizing only later that the gondola system was intended as a means to access the real tourist spots: tea fields, tea houses, and temples. I just saw "gondola" and "mountain" (and those effectively cute pandas) and thought "Hooray! Mountain hiking for lazy people!"  

Anyway, when I passionately jumped up and down (figuratively - don't forget that I think the life of a sloth would be perfect if one could still read a Kindle) about riding the gondola over the mountains, my dear children were rather confused.  "What," they asked, "might be a gondola?"  "Oh, well, it's a cable car! like a ski lift!" (Nice try, but not helpful: growing up in Iowa did these kids no mountain-y favors).  "Ok, well, it's a tiny box you ride in that dangles by a thread from a tiny wire and carries you high over a mountain!"  That sold it. (Just a day later, we saw a movie on the hotel TV where the bad guys jumped into a boat in a Venetian waterway.  "A gondola!" I shouted, and the kids were again thrown into confusion.)

So, on Sunday, after visiting the Taipei zoo (I shall have to write about that fabulous place filled with free-range monsters I'd only known in baby form as "houseplants"), we walked to the nearby Maokong gondola station.  Here we faced a swarm of folks waiting to board a dangling mountain cars. Nick (our bold emissary in all things unfamiliar), strode to the ticket booth, purchased tickets, and came back chortling over the low cost (about $1.50 each).  Meantime, I had noted signs for a crystal-floor gondola; we worked out that we needed ANOTHER ticket (from a separate booth) to take such a trolley of magic and wonder.  These additional tickets were free (!) and allowed us to wait apart from the swarm because now we had a reservation.  So, with 45 minutes to kill, the kids and I were happy to explore a park behind the station and and take goofy pictures in the tropical January air.

It's January in a tropical country where white skin is valued.  Elisabeth & I rocked.

David is certainly taller than me (and still growing), but he's still a goofy kid at heart.

David's pretty much got just one look; Elisabeth could pose all day.

To recap: with no planning whatever, we got to ride a mountain gondola lift for only $6, ride the extra-special glass-bottomed car for no additional charge, get a reservation that allowed us to explore instead of standing around, AND (wait for it) we were guaranteed to have just our family in the car (limit of 5 people) instead of being crammed into a normal car (limit of 8 people) along with folks who might not appreciate our family's particular style of oohing and aahing.

David indicates the gondola's map; Elisabeth was enamored with the well-oiled tropical man on her ticket.

So, ooh and aah we did, all the way up the mountain, with views of rainforest-y goodness, small home gardens and tea farms flying beneath our feet, and the Taipei Tower off in the smoggy distance.

The Taipei 101 tower looms over the city while a large temple nestled on the mountain by the gondola line.
We don't know why all the gondolas were festooned with giant Hello Kitties (not pandas).

Sitting on the glass floor was a little scary but what a unique view of the land and villages.

We disembarked at the top of the mountain and explored the tiny village lined with street foods booths. We chose to buy cotton candy (what's vacation without cotton candy, I ask you?) and an unusual dish of ice-cream-filled spring rolls (of course this was Nick's idea). They were surprisingly fantastic.

We decided against ordering the stinky tofu and the grilled octopus; no idea what the cow was selling.

Shave a giant brick of peanut brittle and put on spring rolls; add two scoops of ice cream, a sprinkle of coriander (cilantro), roll up, and enjoy.  SO YUMMY!  

After our trip back down the mountain, we took the MRT back to Taipei 101, the world's tallest tower from 2004-2010 (Sam built a 5-foot model of it in the 5th grade and it made a fantastic bonfire weeks later).  We went inside the tower to check out the ticket/elevator wait time situation, had some dinner, then decided not to bother with the tower. After all, we'd already seen the whole city from the comfort of a glass-bottomed, flying boat.

Us at the Taipei 101 Tower.