Just after dusk, traversing the streets of Yingge, a suburb of Taipei, back to the nearest train station, this temple, hidden among houses and other buildings, stands like a beacon in the half-dark. It is magical in its presence of colourful light after a considerable walk through darkening streets. It’s otherworldly in its appearance, set among humble houses. The scent of sandalwood incense burning. Not a soul visiting to worship. It’s the temple and me. I don’t need to understand the language, or the customs, or the way of worshipping at this temple. It tells me everything I need to know by being there, welcoming any weary traveler.
I tore myself away to continue the journey into the night.