Taiwanese Bando: The Martial Field That Sets Tables in the Rain, and a Human-Ghost-Divinity Trinity Fading Away

30-Second Overview: Bando is not a modern invention; the Taiwan County Gazetteer from the late Kangxi reign of the Qing Dynasty recorded that Taiwanese people "would host lavish banquets for family celebrations and seasonal festivals" ¹. In Neimen, Kaohsiung, a mudstone badland where even crops struggle to grow, there were approximately 150 groups of head chefs (Zongpushi) at its peak, making it the densest cluster in Taiwan ². But today, this craft is bifurcating: Bando dishes have entered five-star hotels, Michelin guides, and are even making a comeback overseas ³; yet the ritual knowledge involving the whole village mobilizing, with the head chef acting as a folkloric consultant across the human, ghost, and divinity realms, is quietly being lost as no one takes over ⁴. What is truly disappearing is not the flavor, but the tacit understanding behind it.

The evening rain came fast and fierce, and the water quickly rose to the calves.

This was a 120-table Bando banquet taken on by Wang Yi-yong, a senior head chef from Tainan. The feast was about to begin. The canvas tent's frame was bent by the rain, stoves were extinguished one by one, pots and pans floated on the water, and even the trout ready for the pot swam out of the basin, with over a dozen escaping at once ⁵. For anyone else, this event would likely have been called off.

Wang Yi-yong arrived to inspect the site and did not call it off. He asked staff to cut the tent fabric to drain the water, moved all kitchenware under the eaves, rolled up his sleeves, and waded in to catch the fish first. That night, only one trout was missing, which was made up for with ingredients from the reserve table. Every guest had something to eat ⁵.

For three hundred years, Bando has operated roughly like this: as long as the host doesn't call it off, the tables must be set. This discipline of mission accomplishment has supported all the important moments in Taiwanese life, from birth to death, from worshipping gods to honoring ghosts. And now, it is moving in two directions simultaneously—one upward, one downward.

Restaurants Are the "Civil Field"; Bando Is the "Martial Field"

In the industry, there is a common metaphor: Chefs cooking in fixed locations with air conditioning and complete kitchen workflows are in the "Civil Field" (Wenchang); carrying equipment to the roadside, temple grounds, or activity centers to set up temporary tents and serve tables is the "Martial Field" (Wuchang) ⁵.

The difference between the Civil and Martial fields is not about the level of culinary skill, but uncertainty. In a restaurant, the location, stoves, and staff are the same every day; in Bando, the location, time, and personnel are all fixed. The same head chef might host a deity's birthday in a temple square in Tainan this week and hold a funeral at a mountain clan shrine next week. The tent must be rebuilt, the fire reconnected, and the kitchen assistants (shuijiao) redeployed. From a management perspective, this is the most difficult catering model: for a complete Bando event, the head chef acts simultaneously as executive chef, event director, and logistics coordinator—managing canvas tents, tables and chairs, tableware, ingredient suppliers, and labor teams all by himself ⁵.

Therefore, culinary skill is merely the basic foundation of this profession; crisis management is the core competitiveness.

✦ "I fear guests waiting in pain the most; once they get home, they rush to the phone." — Xue Menghui, Head Chef from Neimen, talking about the night of the 88 Flood ⁶

On the night of the 88 Flood, Xue Menghui was cooking the safety banquet for a deity's birthday in Fengshan. The wind was strong and the rain heavy; the canvas tent collapsed, and an iron frame hit a chef on the head. Only then did the host decide to cancel the event ⁶. As he sent the kitchen assistants back to Qiwei and Shanlin one by one, he tried to return to Neimen, only to find all bridges broken. He was trapped in a 7-ELEVEN all night, watching the torrent of the Nanzi Xian River roll by like a sea ⁶. What kept him up all night were the guests waiting in pain for the tables to be set—once he got home, he rushed to make phone calls. And the next day, he still had a banquet for Guanyin Bodhisattva's birthday to host ⁶.

Regardless of strong winds, heavy rain, broken bridges, or collapsed roads, as long as the host doesn't cancel, the head chef must find a way to get the food to the table. Mission accomplishment is the true threshold of this industry for three hundred years, far preceding culinary skill.

Where Even Thorny Bamboo Could Survive, a Kingdom of Head Chefs Grew

The mudstone badlands of the Gutingkeng Formation in the Kaohsiung area, commonly known as the "Moon World." Neimen is located on the edge of this landscape where even crops struggle to grow. Photo: StevenK234, 2019. CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

To understand how this martial field discipline was forged, one must first look at a piece of land that is difficult to cultivate.

The place with the densest concentration of Taiwanese head chefs is Neimen, Kaohsiung. Neimen is located on the mudstone badlands of the Gutingkeng Formation—the landscape commonly known as the "Moon World," with gray-white slopes that are barren, spanning Neimen, Tianliao, and Yanchao. Taiwan Kwanghsa Magazine describes this geology as follows: "The cementation and permeability of mudstone are low; it softens into mud when wet and cracks and peels when dry. Coupled with the high salinity of marine sedimentary soil, plant growth is difficult" ⁷. On these barren slopes where even crops struggle to grow, only drought-resistant thorny bamboo can survive; mangoes and bananas can only be grown in areas with thicker cretaceous soil, and because they grow slowly, they are even sweeter ⁷.

The land does not nourish people, so people must find another way out. Why did Neimen become the hometown of head chefs? There are two coexisting theories, each with its own source.

One theory comes from an interview by The Reporter: In early days, people in Neimen made bamboo baskets for a living, supplying banana farmers in Qishan with boxes for export; after paper boxes took over the market in the 1960s, the bamboo weaving industry declined. Coinciding with the rise of Bando, a large number of craftsmen switched to cooking ⁸. The other theory comes from local officials and cultural workers: Neimen has many temples and performance troupes; the Songjiang Army is a local signature, and during every festival, a large number of participating members must be fed. This repeated demand for "providing meals" gave rise to professional head chefs ⁹. Whether it was bamboo weavers switching trades or temple festivals requiring feeding, both lines point to the same thing—this land forced people to develop a profession that relied on craft for a living.

At its peak, Neimen's entire area had about 14,000 people, yet there were about 150 groups of head chefs. Almost every 5 households had 1 household relying on Bando for a living, capable of cooking over 20,000 tables simultaneously ². This is the densest cluster of head chefs in all of Taiwan. (This figure comes from research compiled by Zhang Yuxin in 2007 and Tang Yuning in 2016 at I-Shou University, not from a recent census ².)

The inheritance of this craft relies on the master-apprentice system. Kitchen assistants accumulate enough experience to graduate, becoming second or third chefs and establishing their own households; in the early days, apprenticeship was passed down through "Soup Pork Knuckle" style master-apprentice relationships—masters taking apprentices, apprentices taking apprentices—spreading Bando technology across Taiwan generation by generation ⁸. The key step that turned Neimen from a group of craftsmen into an industry occurred in 1976: Xue Qingji and several partners (including Deng Zhengping, as well as meat and vegetable vendors) formed a "Four-in-One" company, integrating ingredient supply, cooking, and table/chair rental. From then on, Bando became a business with a complete supply chain, handling everything from ingredients and cooking to tables and chairs in one go ⁸.

Today, Xue Menghui estimates that Neimen now has only about 30 to 40 head chefs, about one-quarter of its peak ⁸. The kingdom remains, but the people are scattering.

In the Ledgers of Three Hundred Years Ago, "Invite the Head Chef to Host Bando" Was Already Recorded

Many people think Bando is something that emerged in post-war Taiwan. It is not. Its roots can be traced back to the Qing Dynasty.

The Taiwan County Gazetteer (compiled by Chen Wenda, completed in 1720) from the late Kangxi reign of the Qing Dynasty already recorded that Taiwanese people "would host lavish banquets for family celebrations and seasonal festivals"; by the Daoguang era, the Changhua County Gazetteer (Zhou Xi, 1835) wrote even more about the grandeur of banquets where "dishes exhausted the mountains and seas" ¹. In 1902, an article titled "Miscellaneous Notes on Banquets and Dishes" in the early Japanese colonial period formally included the term "Bando" in literature, explaining it clearly: "Preparing tables, organizing wine and food, and setting up banquets is called 'Bando'" ¹⁰. This article comes from Records of Taiwanese Customs—a monthly journal published by the Taiwan Customs Research Society (note that this is a different organization from the "Temporary Taiwan Customs Investigation Committee" of the same period, often confused) ¹⁰.

So, when did the business of "Bando" actually start?

Zeng Pincang, Deputy Researcher at the Institute of Taiwan History, Academia Sinica, points out based on Qing Dynasty ledgers and diaries that Taiwanese people in the Qing Dynasty already commissioned professional chefs to host banquets for weddings, funerals, and sacrifices ¹¹. The evidence lies in the account books: for example, the ledgers of the Wufeng Lin family in the late Qing Dynasty clearly recorded entries such as "Invited the 'Head Chef' to host Bando, spent how much per table" ¹¹. Zeng Pincang infers that this habit of commissioning professional chefs for banquets can be traced back to the Kangxi period ¹¹. Looking further to the source, the origin of Bando lies in Min-Yue (Fujian and Guangdong)—the banquet culture traditionally called "Ban Jiu" or "Dao Hui" in Fujian and Guangzhou spread to Taiwan with Qing Dynasty immigrants ¹².

However, from the Qing Dynasty to before the 50th year of the Republic of China (1960s), Bando was very different from what it is today. At that time, cities relied on restaurants for catering, while rural areas mostly relied on villagers with slightly better cooking skills to work part-time. The dishes were limited, and ingredients were often prepared by the host themselves; wealthier families had dedicated "kitchen women" (Zaoxia Fu) to help manage ¹³. True professionalization began around the 1960s—the 50th year of the Republic of China. When villagers discovered that "the profit from part-time Bando exceeded that of farming," this craft gradually became professional, peaking in the 1970s and 80s ¹³.

💡 Did You Know: The Hokkien pronunciation of Bando is pān-toh, and Head Chef is tsóng-phòo-sai. The character "Shi" (Master) is a term of respect in Taiwanese folklore for professional craftsmen ¹⁴—just like "Tu Shui Shi" (Mason) or "Mu Shi" (Carpenter), it is evidence that this craft is respected as an "art."

The Sequence of Twelve Dishes Hides an Entire Invisible Knowledge System

If the martial field discipline is the bone of Bando, then what follows is its soul.

A standard Bando usually has 12 to 14 dishes, with a sequence of introduction, development, turn, and conclusion: cold plates are served first to open the appetite while waiting for guests to sit; then soup warms the stomach; then the climax of the main dishes—the most luxurious seafood or meat, such as lobster, red crab, or Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, appear here, divided into "civilian version" and "noble version" based on each table's budget; after the climax, a palate-cleansing soup is served, followed by re-opening the appetite with heavily flavored bamboo shoot braised pork or pork ribs; the final dish is chicken soup to close, with dessert and fruit to finish ¹⁵. (This dish sequence is the consensus accumulated by head chefs and food media over years.)

It is worth noting that lobster is not actually a "traditional" Bando dish. It only became the protagonist after the Ten Major Construction Projects and economic takeoff in the 1960s; in early Bando, the tables more commonly featured stir-fried rice noodles, white-cut chicken, celery squid soup, and meatball soup—for many people, Bando was one of the few occasions to eat meat back then ¹⁶. Even the most imposing Buddha Jumps Over the Wall was originally called "Fu Shou Quan" (Longevity and Fortune Complete), originating from a family banquet of a Fuzhou official during the Guangxu reign of the Qing Dynasty ¹⁷.

But what makes Bando truly unique is behind the dishes: these dishes are placed into a communal eating worldview. Research from the National Taiwan Museum of History divides Bando's communal eating into three types, which form the theoretical skeleton for understanding Bando's "soul" [^15]:

The first is Human-Divinity Communal Eating. Banquets for seasonal festivals are where humans and deities share offerings together; Taiwanese call this "receiving blessings from the deity by eating" ¹⁵. The second is Human-Ghost Communal Eating. Gatherings for ancestral associations, sacrificial trusts, and Zhongyuan (Ghost Festival) banquets are where humans eat with ancestors and "good brothers," thereby remembering ancestors and establishing harmony with beings in another world ¹⁵. The third is the Host-Guest Communal Eating we are most familiar with—banquets for life rituals celebrating various stages of life, and club gatherings consolidating interpersonal relationships ¹⁵. A single Bando event may cross all three realms: human, divinity, and ghost.

This is why the head chef is simultaneously the host's folkloric consultant. During an interview, The Reporter described this role: "How to prepare for a full-month ceremony? How to arrange offerings? Which foods cannot be served at specific occasions? They know best" ⁵.

📝 Curator's Note

It is easy to think of Bando as "a larger-scale meal," but this framework misses its most critical element. What Bando is truly selling is a correspondence between timing and meaning—which type of table matches which life moment, which dishes are auspicious, inauspicious, or taboo at which occasion. This correspondence is not written in any recipe; it exists in the head chef's mind and in the muscle memory of one practice after another. When we later see "Bando dishes entering five-star hotels," remember: hotels can buy recipes, but they cannot buy this correspondence. What is being lost is the latter.

What does this correspondence look like specifically? The organization by folkloric researcher Zhang Yunshu reveals its intricacy [^18]: For a full-month table, a whole chicken is used, taking the meaning of "completeness," symbolizing perfection (although the true core of the full-month ceremony is actually rice cake, chicken wine, and red eggs); funeral banquets must have an odd number of dishes, 7 or 9, with a "triangular meat" (sann-kak-bah) with a missing corner on the table, using the shape's imperfection to symbolize the family's sense of loss, while avoiding ingredients with specific homophones or meanings like lotus seeds, bitter melon, and pineapple; wedding banquets must have chicken (starting a family), fish (surplus), braised pork (promoting to official), and pig stomach (wishing the bride "big belly"), and red crab rice cake must specially select female crabs with many eggs, seeking the auspicious meaning of "having noble children early" ¹⁸.

⚠️ Controversial Viewpoint: Some Bando taboos circulating in the folk are actually unfounded. For example, "Funeral banquets must have刈包 (Hulao/Tiger Bites Pig)"—Hulao is actually a custom for the Year-End Eve (December 16th lunar calendar), symbolizing biting away the year's bad luck, having nothing to do with funeral banquets; another saying, "Moving into a new house avoids meatballs because 'ball' sounds like 'finished'," has weak sources and directly contradicts the custom of using tangyuan (glutinous rice balls) to symbolize completeness in housewarming banquets ¹⁹. When writing about Bando, even taboos must be verified—because if written incorrectly, it damages the credibility of this knowledge.

The other side of the soul lies after the banquet ends. After the Bando, the head chef mixes the leftovers of each dish into a "Leftover Vegetable Soup" (also called Mixed Vegetable Soup) and sends it to neighbors who helped, taking it home ²⁰. This is not disposing of leftovers; it is a sign of cherishing blessings and gratitude—Taiwan Panorama describes it as a symbol of reciprocity ²⁰. A Bando event is the business of the entire village from start to finish; the host never operates alone. And the Leftover Vegetable Soup itself is also on the verge of extinction ²⁰.

The "Black Forest Grand Hotel" on Auspicious Lunar Days

Older masters often use presidential terms to remember the industry's ups and downs.

From 1988 to 2000, the 12 years Li Denghui served as president are considered the golden age of Bando. This was not only the era of the traditional "Eight Celebrations and One Funeral"—engagement, marriage, full-month, returning to natal home, opening business, birthday, moving house, passing away; it was also an era where even children getting PhDs or winning pigeon racing prizes would host a banquet ²¹. When auspicious lunar days arrived, the temple square and roadside were full of "Black Forest Grand Hotels." The origin of this name is very Taiwanese: early canvas tents were often provided by beverage companies, printed with Black Forest soda advertisements; over time, "Black Forest Grand Hotel" became a synonym for Bando ²¹.

A Bando held directly on the street in Tainan in 2014. Closing the street, setting up tables, and starting the feast is the most daily appearance of the "Black Forest Grand Hotel." Photo: Ce Jingzhe, 2014. CC BY-SA 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

How prosperous that era was, Xue Menghui remembers most clearly from his father Xue Qingji's work diary.

✦ "The entire yearbook is written full, hosting 25,000 tables in a year." — Xue Menghui recalling his father Xue Qingji's work diary ²¹

In Xue Qingji's era, even in slow months, the average was still 1,000 tables ²¹. In contrast, in Xue Menghui's own pre-pandemic period, hosting 500 tables in a peak month was already something to be grateful for, with only a few thousand tables for the whole year ²¹—between one generation, the scale had shrunk several times over.

The turning point fell around 2003 (the third year of Chen Shui-bian's presidency). Taiwan's industry moved west in large numbers, and small and medium enterprise clients decreased one by one. An old client didn't hire Bando for two consecutive years; upon inquiry, it turned out the company had gone bankrupt ²¹. The tail end of the golden age began with unanswered phone calls.

Forty Years Old Is Considered Young: A Fading Generational Gap

The industry shrinking can be an economic issue, waiting for the next cycle. But what Bando faces is something harder to turn back—the generational gap in succession.

Li Junxiang, a head chef from New Taipei, speaks plainly: "In the catering industry, 40 years old is considered young; mainly, those who take over have family connections. Among 30-year-old chefs, you can't find 2 out of 10; kitchen assistants are generally aging" ²². Another head chef, Jiang Yi-yong, offers a more specific observation: Of culinary school graduates, only about 2% eventually enter catering ²³. The reason is easy to understand—"For a noon banquet, you must depart at 3:30 AM; long working hours, hot stoves" ²³. If young people have choices, they prefer working in air-conditioned restaurants.

Talent is flowing out, and the craft is breaking with it. Older masters did everything from slaughtering pigs and chickens to making pudding and baking cakes themselves; now, with outsourced frozen foods, apprentices in the kitchen cannot learn the complete picture, and those most labor-intensive "hand-path dishes" (shoulu cai) are disappearing one by one ²⁴.

The legendary "Chicken-Pig Stomach Turtle" in the movie Total Chef is the best example—stuffing a softshell turtle into a native chicken, then stuffing the whole chicken into a pig stomach, slow-cooking for 3 hours, the process is so cumbersome that almost no one is willing to do it ²⁵. The "Chestnut Chicken" popular 40 years ago, young chefs no longer know how to make; others like Bone-Changing Hollow Eel, Bag Chicken, and Five-Silk Branch are also on the verge of extinction ²⁴. (However, it should be noted: Braised pork and red crab rice cake, although labor-intensive, are still very common today and are not in the list of disappearing dishes.) The one who left the most records for these dishes is Huang Wanling, the godmother of Taiwanese cuisine—she was the food director for the movie Total Chef, spending over ten years going to the countryside to visit and preserve those disappearing Taiwanese dishes ²⁵.

📝 Curator's Note

Note an unspoken choice here. The market actually gave the Bando industry an easy path: using frozen meal packs and semi-finished products, one can still serve 12 dishes, and guests probably won't notice much. Taking this path, the industry could survive longer. But the cost is that those hand-path dishes requiring oral and manual transmission between master and apprentice will quietly die on this path—not because no one likes to eat them, but because no one needs to learn them. Crafts are rarely eliminated by new things; more often, they are bypassed bit by bit by "good enough is fine."

The Longest Winter

If the generational gap is a chronic disease, then the 2020 pandemic was an acute illness.

The Reporter interviewed nearly 10 head chefs from north and south at the time. The consensus was: the number of catering tables shrank by at least 90% starting from the Lunar New Year (this is a consensus from interviews, not official statistics) ²⁶. Xue Menghui alone had over 500 tables canceled in the 2nd and 3rd lunar months; a second-generation heir from a Bando family, who usually used a large spatula for stir-frying in big pots, had to switch to holding a small soup spoon, packing bento boxes one by one to survive ²⁶.

Official numbers also couldn't hold up. Ministry of Economic Affairs statistics show that in April 2020, the revenue of the "Catering and Group Meal Contracting Industry" decreased by 32.3% year-on-year, with monthly revenue of about NT$2.5 billion ²⁷. However, this number must be read carefully: it was mainly dragged down by air catering (airline meals), and a large number of open-air Bando events had no business registration and were not in the statistical scope—so for open-air Bando, this number actually underestimates the impact it suffered ²⁷.

Beyond the pandemic, northern Bando faces a more structural dilemma—space. Li Junxiang describes that northern Bando must first close the street, apply for road rights, and is often reported by neighbors: "Even when we are frying things, neighbors next door curse and report us to the Environmental Protection Bureau for air pollution. The more agitated ones even throw things from upstairs to drive us away" ²⁸. Activity centers and elementary school auditoriums in Taipei City are almost never lent for hosting banquets ²⁸. In the寸土寸金 (inch of land, inch of gold) city, it is becoming increasingly difficult for open-air Bando to find even one place to legally set tables.

Are all these pressures bad things? Cultural worker Yan Zhenyu has a different view. He believes the pandemic was both a blow and a stimulus, forcing head chefs to improve hygiene standards and seriously consider transformation ²⁹. But the deepest fear in the hearts of interviewed head chefs is something else: "We not only worry about this year, but more worry that 'people not hiring Bando' becomes a habit" ²⁹. The Reporter's conclusion was calm: Bando is tightly linked to the economy, and it is difficult to warm up in the short term ²⁹.

The Dishes Remain, the Soul Scatters

But if the story stops here, it would be terribly wrong.

Because looking back from 2025, Bando is not dying in a single direction. It is actually bifurcating—as "dishes" and "brand," it is going up; as a "whole-village mobilization ritual," it is sinking down.

This upward branch is impressive. The Michelin Guide Tainan included Bando dishes in its formal discourse; three restaurants serving Bando dishes—A-Xia Restaurant, Xin Xin Restaurant, and Dong Shang Taiwanese Cuisine—were all selected for Bib Gourmand ³⁰. Palais de Chine Hotel in Taipei launched "Taiwanese Bando," directed by Chef Lin Mingcan, with a table costing NT$22,800 plus a 10% service fee, claiming to be the first five-star hotel in Taiwan to formally pay tribute to Bando culture ³¹. The next generation is also taking over: TaiwanPlus reported in August 2025 with the title "Bando Is Back," showing the new generation using a "next-generation marketing × parent-generation craft" model to bring Bando back—such as Tofu Head Chef Huang Maoyuan and his daughter Huang Jiayu, Master A Long and his son A Xiang ³². The English report wrote: "Once fading from Taiwan's cultural fabric, this legendary banquet tradition is making a dynamic comeback…" ³²

Even overseas is flowing back. The restaurant Good To Eat in Emeryville, California, has Taiwanese chef Tony Tung (she and partner Angie Lin are a wife-wife team) treating Bando as a love letter to Taiwan, with the menu named jan ba bae (Bando) ³³. On January 4, 2025, she invited Neimen Head Chef Master A-Càn to Taipei to host a traditional Bando for over 400 people, attracting California diners to fly back to Taiwan specifically to experience it ³³.

Looking at these two branches together, the shape of bifurcation becomes clear. What is reviving is the "dish" and the "brand"—they can enter five-star hotels, Michelin tables, and California restaurants; what is being lost is that ritual knowledge. Five-star hotel banquet halls can replicate a pot of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, but cannot replicate the tacit understanding of "whole-village mobilization, head chef acting as folkloric consultant, distributing leftover soup to neighbors." Scarcity has turned Bando dishes into a cultural pilgrimage; California diners are willing to fly half the globe back to Taiwan to eat a meal—but the object of that pilgrimage is losing its habitat: the badland that raised head chefs, those consecutive temple festivals, that village that would call all neighbors to help.

Air-conditioned restaurants can grow dishes, but cannot grow a soul.

That Yearbook Full of Writing

Back to Xue Qingji's yearbook full of writing.

This is Xue Menghui's most cherished object, and also the most authentic archaeological site of this industry ²¹. The dense orders on the diary—celebration banquets for pigeon racing wins, gratitude tables for PhDs, safety banquets for Mazu's birthday at the temple square—record a whole set of things Taiwanese people once commonly recognized: which moments are worth gathering everyone together, what to eat at that moment, who hosts it, and how to say goodbye properly.

The dishes have already proven they can enter five-star hotels, fly to California, and be certified by Michelin. What about the tacit understanding written in that yearbook—which table matches which moment, which dish is auspicious or inauspicious at which occasion, which neighbors who helped should receive the leftover soup—how many people still remember, how many can still take it over?

Further Reading:

• Taiwanese Hand-Path Dishes
• Hulao
• Taiwanese Seafood Culture
• Night Market Culture
• Chen Yu-Hsun

Image Sources

This article uses 3 public domain / CC licensed images, all cached in public/article-images/food/ to avoid hotlinking to source servers:

• Bando after Zhongyuan Ghost Festival (hero) — Photo: Xuan Shi Sheng, 2017-09-19, CC0 1.0
• Mudstone Badlands of Gutingkeng Formation in Kaohsiung (Moon World) — Photo: StevenK234, 2019-04-01, CC BY-SA 4.0
• Street Bando in Tainan — Photo: Ce Jingzhe, 2014-12-07, CC BY-SA 2.0

References