Reflections of Taiwan

I've been home for almost a week now and the things that strike me the most are the size of the people and the size of the vehicles they drive. America is huge, and so are it's automobiles.

One of the strangest feelings is knowing that when I wake up, I can't call my friends in Taipei and ask them if they want to go for a hike this weekend, or throw the frisbee around at the park by the 101. I already miss those guys, and I know that in the coming months my skype account is going to be a very necessary inclusion in my daily life, as it has been for the past year.

Now that I have distance from the subject, I can safely say that Taiwan is one of those places where magic resides. The friendly people, the dense jungles and plethora of waterfalls, beaches, and mountains makes this small country burst with opportunity. If you're one for adventure, I can't imagine a better stop on a world-wide trip. When one pictures wild destinations with exotic locations, they imagine New Zealand, Borneo, Thailand, Cambodia, and others, but the views I've shared in Taiwan would match and surpass anything to be found in those locations, or elsewhere.

I'll never forget my first trip down to Kenting on New Years Eve and the feeling of lucid dreaming I felt as we woke up to soft, yellow beaches with electric blue water which lapped slowly but relentlessly along the shore of beautiful rock coves and bays. The feeling I felt on top of Ali mountain as the sun began to peak out over the distant Yu mountain, the highest in Taiwan. The lockstep and steady gaze of the guards at Chiang Kai Shek Memorial Hall or it's neighbor to the East, Sun Yat Sen Memorial Hall. My inspiring and heartwarming trip to Fuli where I would be treated to Taiwanese hospitality from a homegrown perspective. The myriad river traces that have come to converge and intertwine into one single torrent of waterlogged memory. The wild monkeys, neon feathered birds, and intimidating snakes which inhabited the land we explored made every trip one for the record books.

With the help of my friends, I was able to see a side of Taiwan that few else would have the determination and drive to see. We were out there, nearly every single weekend, one train or bus or taxi away from our next inspiring panorama. Armed with backapacks full of water and snacks, we intrepidly found ourselves searching out that all-important Chinese character, Shan, meaning "mountain."

One thing that will stick with me the most is the people who came to see me. It wouldn't have been the same trip without Samantha coming to visit, or my mother coming out a few months later. With their fresh perspectives I was able to get a better feel for my place in this unique culture and they helped to put a mirror in front of me for how much I'd changed since the last time they saw me. Here I was, a foreigner in a strange land speaking a strange tongue and eating strange food. On top of that, I was expecting them to not only embrace this new me, but to go along with me as if it were the most perfectly natural thing in the world. They both showed a lot of courage and passion in their decision to come out, but also in their decisions made while in the country as well.

My mother had never left the country before this trip, other than to visit Canada and Mexico. I, for one, hardly consider those leaving the US because Canada is the diet coke to America and in Mexico she was holed up in a resort the entire time. If America is Coca-Cola, then Taiwan is Dr. Pepper. It's still brown and bubbly but you'd never mistake the two.

Having Joanne in Taiwan made for quite a trip and I'm so glad that she was able to make it a reality. She arrived with a fifty pound bag stuffed with forty-eight pounds of food, stating that she "just brought some snacks, and candy for the kids." She hit the school with an arm load of Pixie Sticks, Air Heads, and Hershey's Kisses, loading them up with sugar right before they got down to their bookwork. She was not easily forgotten and for weeks after her departure children were still coming up to me in the hallway asking, "Teacher Brian, where is your mother?" To which I'd reply that she was in America, resulting in many drooping faces and slack shoulders.

She was also brave enough to accompany me on a train to the south eastern side of the island so that we could take in the experience of Taroko Gorge, one of the premier destinations in Taiwan. Unfortunately, during our stay in Hualien, the town outside the gorge, a typhoon decided it would be a good time to piss it down all over us. The distinctly tropical downpour did not let up for twenty four hours, by which time we'd said "screw it" and boarded a train back for Taipei, but not before being completely drenched, my leaving my wallet in a taxi and then having our order forgotten at a restaurant resulting in us waiting for over forty-five minutes for a damned pizza which gave me stomach poisoning and had me racing for the bathroom to puke at one in the morning. The only time I had any problem with the food in Taiwan, and it came from a pizza ordered at a Canadian guy's restaurant while my mom is visiting. Se la vie.

While visiting Chiang Kai Shek Memorial Hall, still in the pouring rain, she came in contact with her first Chinese tourist, which culminated in her calling a Chinese woman a "rude bitch!" to her face, which meant absolutely nothing to her anyway. (In Jo-Jo's defense, the woman was acting like a rude bitch by American standards. The issue stems from a lack of understanding in mainland China of lining up to buy goods, they simply bum-rush the counter and thrust money in front of them while clutching refrigerator magnets.) After this culturally engaging incident, I decided to attract her attention to something a little more calm, the heart of the memorial's memorabilia gallery with it's five-thousand pound bullet proof Cadillac circa 1956 and many, many awards and commendations.

Joanne was a favorite not only of the students at my school, but also of the teaching assistants and other Taiwanese staff. She would sit at the front desk while I was in one class or another and regale them stories of my childhood or of the none-to-distant college years. I could hear their bursts of laughter from the classroom as I was explaining when to use the third person "s" to my students. At lunch time, I would take her down the street to any one of the places I would normally go, to give her an idea of my routine. She gawked at my gastro-adventures and guffawed at the prices, after I ran the exchange rate for her in my head.

Though I tried my best to be entertaining, I also had a job to do, and when I was at work I'm not exactly sure what she was up to, but I can imagine most of this time was spent soaking in the air conditioning, for which she'd generously offered me $2,000NT to cover the costs for the week. The moment she stepped into my apartment she was mortified to find that I had two working AC units and neither of them was in use. I explained that they ran up the electric bill and that the fan I'd bought worked just fine, she didn't agree, and for the whole of the week I lived a dual life of sweating outside and chattering my teeth inside.

When Samantha had come, the weather was fair and clear, we had all the time in the world to go hiking and exploring, and to get off the beaten path on a trip to the south of the island. It was a very different experience when Joanne came, but none the worse. I was happy to show my mom the lifestyle I'd created for myself, and to prove my independence as a young man. Our relationship has been besieged the past few years by my own yearning to be seen as a fully functional adult who can provide and take care of himself, though this has always been hindered by the fact that while living at home, I was far from that reality. With her trip to Taiwan, I finally felt that I was able to show her that her years of diligent labor raising me had paid off in a son who could take care of himself, even in a country far from home. I was proud to usher her into a taxi and explain our destination, in Chinese, to the taxi driver. I was proud to help her with the subway system, which I believe was her first experience with underground transportation, and show her how to manage the traffic and crowds. I was proud to show her that I was good at my job, and that the people I worked for, and with, cared for me and appreciated my efforts. I am happy to say that my mother did a fine job with me, and I hope that she understands what I mean when I say: Thanks Mom.