Incomplete posts from Taiwan
These posts are only barely started but as I was going back through my blog, writing about my time in Moldova, where I’m currently studying Russian, I decided to post these as some of my incomplete final thoughts while in Taiwan.
Post 8:
Post 9:
It’s surreal to think about the fact that I only have a week left on this island that has become my second home. I can’t imagine life without the tiny streets, crowded with honking cars, streams of scooters threading recklessly in between them, and shops standing shoulder to shoulder, announcing themselves with the colorful neon signs that give the city that characteristic hue of life in any weather and at any time of day. I’m going to miss the triumph of racing into the mrt with my friends just as the doors close to find we have the car almost to ourselves, as well as the familiar frustration of finding the doors jammed with commuters on the early morning ride to school and having to blearily shove my way into the sweaty crowd of people. Without the 蔥油餅 cart down the street, how will I find a cheap, greasy, and hunger abolishing snack on my way home from school? And it makes me shudder to think of paying five dollars if I ever feel like a quick bubble tea while I’m walking around downtown back in Portland. Afternoons with my host mom, driving to a temple on the outskirts of town to pray and leave offerings in between grocery shopping, or working on Chinese homework in the back of Buddhism class are already starting to feel like faded memories of a dream I’m so reluctant to wake up from. But what scares me the most is what I can possibly do without the spontaneous bus rides to unknown, sparsely populated towns, or the relief of a relaxed dinner out with a fellow exchange student after a particularly long day of school. When I remind myself that I can someday travel back to this quirky little island that’s come to feel like home, it’s a superficial reassurance. As much as I am eager to share all these little marginal details of my life with my family, I’ll come back to a house filled with nostalgia but empty of the community and people that made it my home. Still, for all the anguish it brings to leave behind this year forever, the decision to set off on this adventure that was so unknown only last August will never not have been worth it. I’ve come to understand the intangible things I’ve always taken for granted, the strength and tolerance it takes to be almost completely independenf, the constantly underestimated importance of the people you surround yourself with. This year has been littered with new restrictions, but also new freedoms, and the responsibilities that come with both, and through learning to navigate these I’ve gained a confident knowledge of the things that I can live without and those that will actually have an impact on my day, as well as what truly matters to me in other people, in my day to day life, and in my own actions and ambitions.
Post 8:
With only a week left in Taiwan, I want to make sure I have a chance to write a bit more about some of the eye-opening opportunities I’ve had this year. One of those which I’m truly grateful for was my six day school trip to Japan. As compared to Singapore, Japan is a huge country of which I only saw a tiny part, and I strongly hope I can go back someday to see the rest of the islands, but my time there was made special my the students I traveled with. Instead of traveling with my class, as I did to Singapore, the trip to Japan was an elective trip for first year students of all classes. While our excursions were fun - strawberry picking, meeting students at schools with whom I could only communicate by calling thing kawai (cute), and staying in a traditional Japanese inn in the country were we ate sashimi and slept on mats, or spending a free day exploring Tokyo - even when our planned view of Mt. Fuji was fogged over or when we had to wait for hours in line at Disney World, getting to know the other students on my trip at a point when my Chinese was already well developed as they were also getting to know each other, meant that I could quickly develop much stronger friendships than I could with students in my own class. For the first time, I connected with my Taiwanese schoolmates in the same way I have with my fellow exchange students, whether playing word games in Chinese while waiting to ride Thunder Mountain, charring on the bus, or staying up all night in each others hotel rooms talking and playing card games. I’ll remember several of the good friends I made during those five days in Japan, and I’ve even spent time with a couple of them outside of school, going to the movies or to get snacks in the evening after classes.
Post 9:
It’s surreal to think about the fact that I only have a week left on this island that has become my second home. I can’t imagine life without the tiny streets, crowded with honking cars, streams of scooters threading recklessly in between them, and shops standing shoulder to shoulder, announcing themselves with the colorful neon signs that give the city that characteristic hue of life in any weather and at any time of day. I’m going to miss the triumph of racing into the mrt with my friends just as the doors close to find we have the car almost to ourselves, as well as the familiar frustration of finding the doors jammed with commuters on the early morning ride to school and having to blearily shove my way into the sweaty crowd of people. Without the 蔥油餅 cart down the street, how will I find a cheap, greasy, and hunger abolishing snack on my way home from school? And it makes me shudder to think of paying five dollars if I ever feel like a quick bubble tea while I’m walking around downtown back in Portland. Afternoons with my host mom, driving to a temple on the outskirts of town to pray and leave offerings in between grocery shopping, or working on Chinese homework in the back of Buddhism class are already starting to feel like faded memories of a dream I’m so reluctant to wake up from. But what scares me the most is what I can possibly do without the spontaneous bus rides to unknown, sparsely populated towns, or the relief of a relaxed dinner out with a fellow exchange student after a particularly long day of school. When I remind myself that I can someday travel back to this quirky little island that’s come to feel like home, it’s a superficial reassurance. As much as I am eager to share all these little marginal details of my life with my family, I’ll come back to a house filled with nostalgia but empty of the community and people that made it my home. Still, for all the anguish it brings to leave behind this year forever, the decision to set off on this adventure that was so unknown only last August will never not have been worth it. I’ve come to understand the intangible things I’ve always taken for granted, the strength and tolerance it takes to be almost completely independenf, the constantly underestimated importance of the people you surround yourself with. This year has been littered with new restrictions, but also new freedoms, and the responsibilities that come with both, and through learning to navigate these I’ve gained a confident knowledge of the things that I can live without and those that will actually have an impact on my day, as well as what truly matters to me in other people, in my day to day life, and in my own actions and ambitions.
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