Jay Chou (周杰倫) and model Lin Chi-ling (林志玲) have finally fulfilled every pap’s dream by appearing in public as a couple — or have they? Next Magazine reported that the two went on a date to a hot pot restaurant in Taipei’s East District (東區) — but our sister newspaper, the Liberty Times, says the outing was a ploy to energize lackluster ticket sales of the duo’s flick The Treasure Hunter (刺陵).
The super-hotties were spotted late at night last week. In an alleged attempt to throw off reporters, Chou swapped his BMW for a Ford borrowed from lyricist Vincent Fang (方文山) before driving into Lin’s apartment complex. Despite his attempts at subterfuge (or perhaps because of), photogs quickly surrounded the two — Next Magazine published grainy photos of Chou and Lin in and out of the Ford as they arrived at the restaurant on Civil Boulevard (市民大道).
Oddly enough, for a pair trying to avoid publicity, the two had gathered not only a contingent of celeb friends, including Devon Song (彈頭) of pop group Nan Quan Mama (南拳媽媽) and Jackie Chan’s (成龍) son Jaycee Fong (房祖名), but also what appeared to be Chou’s entire entourage.
“It’s like he called in a naval escort (護航),” Next Magazine tartly noted.
Chou and Lin’s inability to keep their “secret love affair” a secret may indeed be a scheme to raise ticket sales of Treasure Hunter. The epic is rumored to have cost NT$500 million to produce, but has made only NT$6,270,000 at the box office since opening two weeks ago, according to the Liberty Times. Even a limited edition souvenir book autographed by the two actors and filled with glossy photos of them in character has found few takers. There were 600 volumes issued, but as of the beginning of this week, 264 books were still lingering in stores, despite Chou’s status as one of the sexiest men in Asia and Lin’s as “Taiwan’s most beautiful woman.”
Only time will tell if the Chou-Lin matchup will increase interest in Treasure Hunter, but one thing’s for sure: Chou sure does like that hot pot restaurant on Civil Boulevard. Next Magazine noted that it was his favorite meeting spot during his on-and-off relationship with pop superstar Jolin Tsai (蔡依林). “Only the face beside him has changed, from Tsai to [talk show host] Patty Hou (侯佩岑) to Lin,” the gossip rag wrote.
On the opposite side of the coin, actor Mark Chao (趙又廷) was not only probably a lot less eager to talk to reporters, but also tired of promoting his latest film, Monga (艋舺). Chao was hit with a cold after a rigorous round of publicity events and recording for the flick’s sound track. Apple Daily spotted the actor heading into a clinic on Minquan East Road (民權東路) known for its clientele of celebrities. A brave reporter got close enough to the germ-laden heartthrob to ascertain that he sounded nasal behind his facemask and that his “electrifying eyes” looked spiritless. Chao burst into a coughing fit as soon as he opened his mouth to answer a question, before managing to choke out, redundantly, “I have to wear a mask, this cold is really bad.” When asked if he had H1N1, Chao replied, “No way! I don’t have a fever!” before launching into a hacking fit once again.
Taiwanese songstress Elva Hsiao (蕭亞軒) had weightier things on her mind last Monday as she and her younger brother bade good-bye to their mother, who passed away after a battle with cancer. Apple Daily reported on the memorial service in exacting detail, thanks to information provided by Hsiao’s management company. The funeral cost NT$150,000, mourners were surrounded by 6,600 white roses, NT$180 million worth of paper money was burned, along with paper versions of two maids and a Louis Vuitton handbag, and donations were to be made to the Formosa Cancer Foundation (台灣癌症基金會), Dharma Drum Mountain (法鼓山) and Tzu Chi (慈濟). Hsiao’s former flame, Jacky Chu (祝釩剛), was in attendance. Chu reportedly let down Hsiao and her mother 10 years ago when he was unable to commit to Hsiao. Apple Daily reported that he showed up at the funeral to pay his respects to mother Hsiao and promise to take care of Elva “as a friend.” Other famous mourners included socialite and model Aimee Sun (孫芸芸), actress Terri Kwan (關穎), and Fong, who went to the funeral a few days after hanging out with Chou and Lin at the hot pot restaurant.
A few weeks ago I found myself at a Family Mart talking with the morning shift worker there, who has become my coffee guy. Both of us were in a funk over the “unseasonable” warm weather, a state of mind known as “solastalgia” — distress produced by environmental change. In fact, the weather was not that out of the ordinary in boiling Central Taiwan, and likely cooler than the temperatures we will experience in the near-future. According to the Taiwan Adaptation Platform, between 1957 and 2006, summer lengthened by 27.8 days, while winter shrunk by 29.7 days. Winter is not
A sultry sea mist blankets New Taipei City as I pedal from Tamsui District (淡水) up the coast. This might not be ideal beach weather but it’s fine weather for riding –– the cloud cover sheltering arms and legs from the scourge of the subtropical sun. The dedicated bikeway that connects downtown Taipei with the west coast of New Taipei City ends just past Fisherman’s Wharf (漁人碼頭) so I’m not the only cyclist jostling for space among the SUVs and scooters on National Highway No. 2. Many Lycra-clad enthusiasts are racing north on stealthy Giants and Meridas, rounding “the crown coast”
March 25 to March 31 A 56-year-old Wu Li Yu-ke (吳李玉哥) was straightening out her artist son’s piles of drawings when she inadvertently flipped one over, revealing the blank backside of the paper. Absent-mindedly, she picked up a pencil and recalled how she used to sketch embroidery designs for her clothing business. Without clients and budget or labor constraints to worry about, Wu Li drew freely whatever image came to her mind. With much more free time now that her son had found a job, she found herself missing her home village in China, where she
Taiwan’s post-World War II architecture, “practical, cheap and temporary,” not to mention “rather forgettable.” This was a characterization recently given by Taiwan-based historian John Ross on his Formosa Files podcast. Yet the 1960s and 1970s were, in fact, the period of Taiwan’s foundational building boom, which, to a great extent, defined the look of Taiwan’s cities, determining the way denizens live today. During this period, functionalist concrete blocks and Chinese nostalgia gave way to new interpretations of modernism, large planned communities and high-rise skyscrapers. It is currently the subject of a new exhibition at the Taipei Fine Arts Museum, Modern