Opera, another treat from Taiwan
Jason Volker, Contributor, Taipei
"I'm sure nobody will mind if I help myself," chuckles King Monkey as he skips through the Queen of Heaven's immortal peach orchard.
Being a "very important monkey" (his words), he obliges himself with a bite from every magical fruit before curling up for a satiated nap, complete with sonorous snoring, under a shady tree.
But he's soon awakened by the din of a panicked posse of gods searching for the sacred crop. Barely able to muffle his glee, he tiptoes towards corner stage to watch the ensuing bedlam unfold.
Laughter peals through Taipei's Great Tranquility Park as the play's hero, the deliciously impish King Monkey, contorts his face with mirthful delight at the havoc he has inspired.
By a quirk of fortune I'm in Taiwan's lively capital while the National Kuo Kuang Chinese Opera Company, the country's most famous troupe, is staging a free public performance of Mei Hou Wang, The Monkey King. So on a brisk spring evening, I find myself happily peering over a sea of Asian hairstyling at this raucous feast of traditional entertainment.
Dazzling costumes embellished with lavish embroidery, painted faces of electric colors, improbably squeaky voices accompanied by an orchestra of ancient instruments, sword duels and spear fights of death-defying precision, superhuman tumbling and miraculous mid-air maneuvers: Who said opera is boring?
Chinese Opera, also known as Peking Opera, is often considered the pinnacle of Oriental artistic expression. Though the components have existed for two millennia, the art was formerly established in 1790 when China's most accomplished players gathered in Peking to entertain the emperor with tumbling, theater, music and dance.
The performers were royally invited to stay in the capital, and over time their collaboration evolved the art form known in Chinese as Jing Hsi (Capital Opera).
Heaven is in uproar. Divine generals in full battle regalia menacingly circle King Monkey. Never short for words, the waggish fruit picker responds, "I am King Monkey, Great Sage, Equal of Heaven, I demand to be made Emperor of Paradise." To back up this audacious quip he boldly brandishes his staff at the fuming warriors.
A celestial brouhaha explodes. Whirling sabers and slashing axes swish through the still night air. The audience collectively gasps as gleaming weapons expertly miss their target by a thin inch. A hearty cheer echoes through the park as the cheeky lord of apes escapes in a blur of acrobatics.
It appears Monkey's riotous antics are rubbing off. In contrast to the customary silence of Western theatergoers, this Taipei crowd boisterously revels through proceedings. Friends chat and joke just a little too loud, parents narrate the story to their spellbound children, teenage sweethearts cuddle and coo, roasted chestnut vendors herald their sumptuous fare.
Thunderous applause welcomes King Monkey's return, but the regal prankster is about to get his comeuppance. Despite his infinite array of party tricks, the mischievous monkey monarch is soon captured and, in a huff of protests, sent to the golden- robed Buddha to reform his errant ways.
Buddha proposes a wager: If Monkey can use his mystical powers to fly to the edge of the universe, he will be made sovereign of West Heaven. If he fails, he must submit to following the path of enlightenment.
Monkey springs into a flurry of flip-flops and discovers five columns at the stage edge depicting the cosmic boundary. He graffitis his name and symbolically pees on a pillar to mark his presence, then smugly reports back to Buddha. Unfazed by these apish antics, Buddha unfurls his palm to reveal to the dumbfounded primate his name and urine sample were in fact left on the Buddha's little finger.
For such crowd-pleasing impudence, Monkey is buried under a mountain of tables for the remainder of the scene.
Accompanying me on this night at the opera is my Taiwanese sister-in-law who, during a speedy scenery change, fills in some gaps in my theatrical education. It's no surprise to learn that Chinese Opera performers devote their lives to perfecting their profession. Starting from childhood, practitioners undertake decades of daily practice to achieve their masterly level of proficiency.
Based on personality and body type, teachers select a role for each young aspirant that will remain their area of expertise throughout their career. Whether a fearless General, a heartbroken royal concubine, a dashing young scholar or a farcical court jester, this lifelong specialization is the secret to their flawless performances.
As is the case this evening, starring roles are reserved for senior members of the ensemble (often in their 50s and 60s), as it requires a hard-won blend of intelligence, athleticism and experience to bring to life the unique traits of complex central characters.
It's time for King Monkey to face his karma. As further penance for his rabble-rousing ways, a heavenly court orders Monkey to accompany the intrepid monk Hsuan Tsang, together with a mysterious water sprite and a lustful pig spirit, on an epic journey to India in search of Buddhist scriptures.
From the outset, their trip is fraught with adventure. A pack of dagger-wielding demons swarms on stage to impede the pilgrim's path.
Irrepressible Monkey lets out a whoop of joy and hollers: "Come on, I love to fight." Twirling his enchanted staff, the "As You Will Cudgel", and parading his gymnastic monkey-style kung fu, he single-handedly defeats the marauding monsters.
But that's just a taste of things to come. The following scenes depict our travelers battling an assortment of unearthly obstacles and, particularly in Pigsy's case, romancing a few shapely fox spirits. These rollicking diversions allow Monkey and his unruly fellow disciples to delight the audience by generally running amok, to the eternal chagrin of monkish Hsuan Tsang.
Of course, Monkey and Co., being of heroic ilk, eventually find their holy grail and triumphantly return to China with scriptures in hand.
If this merry tale of King Monkey's capers sounds familiar, it's probably due to the worldwide cult status of the 70s Japanese TV series, Monkey. But the story has been popular in the Far East since the 16th century when Wu Cheng-en penned his best- selling novel Journey to the West.
Wu's classic is loosely based on the true story of a Chinese Buddhist monk, Hsuan Tsang, who made a marathon journey on foot to India and back in the seventh century. This extraordinary trek lasted six years and included 130 kingdoms en route. Hsuan returned to China with hundreds of Buddhist texts which he later translated, thereby establishing the Vijnanavada (Consciousness Only) School of Buddhism in his homeland.
The stage is awash with sparkling color as performers gather for the grand finale. The orchestra, as if waiting for this moment all evening, turns up maximum volume in a bell-ringing, drum-beating, cymbal-clanging crescendo.
Heaven's pantheon warmly surrounds King Monkey. For helping restore wisdom to the citizens of Earth, Monkey has been granted an audience with the Emperor of Paradise. With a flip-flop and a whimsical wink, the lovable lord of apes takes his place among the angelic hierarchy as the curtain slowly falls.
If you go
Where: Da An (Great Tranquility) Park is a haven of greenery in the heart of downtown Taipei.
Getting there: Malaysia Airlines has regular return flights from Jakarta to Taipei. Call the airline's Jakarta office at 021- 522 9701 or visit www.malaysiaairlines.com.my for details.
When to go: Taipei is at its best in October and November when the weather is most inviting and tourists are scarce. You may want to avoid Chinese New Year (usually around February) when hotel prices double, transport is booked out and shops and restaurants close for days.
Lodging: Travelers with more adventure than cash should try the Taipei Hostel (6th Floor, Lane 5, Lin Shen North Rd, Taipei, phone 8862-2395 2950, fax 8862-2395 2951, email bookings@taipeihostel.com, www.TaipeiHostel.com) where clean, simple rooms start at US$7 a night.
A more upmarket option is the centrally located Cosmos Hotel (43 Chung Hsiao West Rd, Section 1, Taipei, phone 8862-2361 7856, fax 8862-2311 8921) where three-star rooms start at US$81 a night.
Dining: For a delicious, economical meal visit Tan Hua Tou Restaurant (143 Xin Yi Rd, Section 4, Taipei, phone 8862-2704 3301) and be sure to order the dumplings in noodle soup.
If you'd like to sample Taiwanese aboriginal food try the Tai Ya Po Po Restaurant (14 Wu Lai St, Wu Lai Hsiang, Taipei, phone 8862-2661 6371).
Getting around: Taxis are the way to go in Taipei, but as drivers rarely speak English it's best to have your destination written in Chinese. If you can handle a little Mandarin, the city also has an extensive and affordable local bus network.
Currency: One New Taiwan dollar (NT$) is equal to Rp 264.
Reading: Lonely Planet Taiwan is useful on the road. For Taiwan travel tips on the web visit www.roc-taiwan.org, www.taiwanfun.com and www.lonelyplanet.com/destinations
More information: Taiwan Visitors Association, email tbroc@tbroc.gov.tw or visit www.tbroc.gov.tw