Kombucha and Kung Fu on the Mountainside

By By Kevin Brazier

I came to Taiwan in 1989, intending to study martial arts for one year. I lived in the kung fu school’s spare room and spent my days teaching English and learning Chinese. Immersing myself in the culture was a fresh learning experience every day. After my first year in Tainan, I asked myself: Why not just live here for a few more years?

I helped my kung fu teacher out by running clubs at National Cheng Kung University and a boys’ school. As I met more people, one thing that really stood out compared to back in the US was the Taiwanese entrepreneurial spirit, so after six years of teaching English and kung fu, it was time for a change. I was eager to express my personality and ideas through my own business.

The first was Aprilita Vegetarian Bakery. Since then, I’ve opened a pizzeria, another bakery, and a vegan burger kombucha bar. By summer 2005, however, I felt that life was getting too easy in Taiwan and I wanted my wife April and my kids Pierre and Yvonne (now 20 and 24) to experience living in America. I sold my pizzeria and we moved to Florida to open a kung fu school.

By 2015, we were missing our old life in Taiwan. I moved the family back and I was ready to start my next project, a vegan bakery called Hanji Pang. It soon hit the profitable sweet spot. Like Aprilita Bakery, it thrives to this day.

For my next business, I wanted to do something that wouldn’t require plastic packaging. I always felt it was a shame that glass bottles are often used just once and then tossed. I already liked to ferment and I loved the idea of natural probiotics, so fermenting tea into kombucha in a glass bottle seemed like a perfect fit for me. Besides, Taiwan arguably has the best tea in the world. I started my kombucha microbrewery, Magic Monkey Kombucha, because I wanted a glass bottle recycling solution that added value to both bottles and tea by fermenting it in glass. Magic Monkey presents tea to the public in a unique way.

Soon I had my own non-alcoholic kombucha bar and vegan burger joint. Offering a simple menu of burgers and kombucha, I bragged to everyone who walked in that I made everything by hand. Once I had my serving team up and running, I enjoyed my time at the bar, playing bossa nova guitar or sharing fun kung fu movements with kids and adults.

That was my life in Tainan. But I longed for free time on Taiwan’s east coast… By 2021, exploration was my personal mission. Stealing time to explore

Taitung, I stayed at backpacker hostels or temples, or slept in high mountains where the forests reminded me of the winters of my youth in rural New York. Once I camped at the seashore and watched the sun emerge from the sea.

By late 2023, my search had led me to an abandoned farmhouse on the side of a mountain above Chishang. It was the perfect spot for my new Magic Monkey Kombucha brewery. The previous occupant had grown plums and made plum wine. This part of the township is sparsely inhabited. Some of the folks who grew up here have stayed behind, but others moved to urban areas.

By November 2023, I’d closed my Tainan business and sadly said goodbye to my old customers. We were now officially people of Taitung. I signed the lease and moved my brewing equipment as fast as I could, eager to ferment tea with mountain spring water.

In my mind I told myself that I’d create the most delicious kombucha in the world. But I had labor to do first.

The damaged farmhouse and its neglected pipes needed a lot of work. After all, I’m surrounded by constant growth and I have to become one with the rhythms of the land. That rhythm includes meeting the neighbors. A local farmer gave me some plumbing tips and helped me reconnect my water tower. Then I spent nearly a month getting the farm’s pipes working again, checking the water lines for leaks.

Each night at bedtime, I ask myself why we didn’t move sooner. I love falling asleep to the nightly symphony of insects and frogs and waking to the melody of singing birds. The sunset calls of the ferocious muntjac frightened me at first. But morning walks revealed sight of this cute half-goat/ half-deer creature. I put the muntjac in my celestial creature category, next to unicorns and fireflies.

As soon as I hear the roosters crow, I’m out of bed, measuring the fermentation of the black tea. If I don’t need to bottle kombucha that morning, I go down the mountain and practice kung fu at Dapo Pond.

Kung fu leaves me gasping for breath and with a pounding heart, as if I’ve just run a 100-meters dash. As I return balance to my respiration — called “balancing water and fire” in kung fu parlance — the jumping flame of my consciousness becomes a steady unflickering light.

The quiet and soothing sounds of nature are conducive to this type of half-vigorous/halfmeditative kung fu. The sages of old did their mind and body exercises in quiet remote locations, and I’ve long sought the kind of environment where I could take myself to a deeper level of awareness. In Chishang, I’ve found such a place. As I train surrounded by nature, I feel as if I’m aging in reverse.

But that isn’t the only reason I like to go to Dapo Pond. As the first tourists appear, I think of the vegetable lady down the street. She gets produce grown by old-timers on their small plots, and right in front of her home she sells things you’ll never see in a supermarket. My neighbors and the local aunties are always proud to tell me that their crops are grown without pesticides. “You better make sure there are no baby grasshoppers or butterfly worms!” they tell me.

I then go back up to the farmhouse. If I have a case of kombucha to ship, I use a logistics firm. Then I get to baking, as I don’t want to lose my skills. When the bread is out of the oven, I post a picture on a LINE group. By the time I’ve driven down the mountain, the bread reservations are in and I just drop it off at people’s homes or businesses.

When I first came to Taiwan, my only thought was to study Chinese philosophy, literature, and the subtle aspects of martial arts. Thirty years later, I haven’t changed much. As I get to know the people of Chishang better and discover my favorite corners and alleys, my hope is to find my own little spot where I can recreate something like what I once had in Tainan: A relaxing kombucha bar where people can chill and chat, meet new friends, or work on their art. Within the next two years, I want a beacon of artistic light to shine forth from this cute country town!