The Vanished Inland Sea — A City Born from the Retreat of Taijiang's Waters

Here, once, was the sea. Beneath this road, running from Anping toward the old town, there once spread a broad lagoon called Taijiang Inner Sea. A long sandbar stretched north to south, separating it from the outer ocean, and within its shelter lay waters calm enough for even great ships to anchor safely. Anyone who looks at a seventeenth-century nautical chart is left puzzled, for it does not match the landscape of today. Anping was an island then. The area around Chikan Tower lay right at the water's edge. Between these two points, people crossed by ferry. What changed all this were the rivers. Taiwan's rivers are short and swift, carrying enormous quantities of sediment down from the mountains. Records tell us that the flooding of the Zengwen River, in particular, filled in the northern part of the inner sea almost all at once. [To be verified: the precise era in which Taijiang Inner Sea silted up, and the historical sources supporting this.] The withdrawal of the water was not a slow affair. Within a single human lifetime, a landing once used for boats would become unusable. A grandson would till a field beside the very post where his grandfather once moored a boat. The residents of a harbor town found themselves, almost overnight, transformed into inland farmers. As you walk, take note of the subtle rise and fall beneath your feet. Old Tainan is a continuous sequence of gentle undulations — a temple sits where the ground climbs slightly, a market where it dips. The higher ground marks what was once dry land. The harbor vanished, but the city remained. Why did a city that lost its harbor go on to survive, still carrying four centuries' worth of buildings upon its back? The answer lies scattered, in fragments, along the road ahead.