I can leave Taiwan, but the island will always find me again

Just when I thought I wouldn't have anything Taiwan-related to write about...

I should have known better. Let me back up. A few days before I departed La Isla Formosa, my aunts called informing me that my mother had requested some 中藥 - Chinese medicine - from them that I needed to bring home with me. They wanted to know if I had enough room in my luggage for it. And, to be perfectly frank, I didn't. My suitcase, duffel, and backpack were all full to the seams.

Not to mention I was openly skeptical with them about the medicine. They told me my mom wanted it for my brother, to help him grow taller, as well as some for my "womanly needs." I've seen these packets of 中藥 before, and actually my mother has given me brewed herbal concoctions before. But to help my brother grow taller? Unless there are growth hormones or something in those herbs, I doubt they will have a significant effect on him, and if there are, well then he shouldn't be taking them anyway!

But due to my aunts' persistence, and not a few guilt-tripping lectures (what can one ABC do against 4 Taiwanese aunts, I ask?), I decided to make room for the questionable bags of medicine. I ended up with two bags of clothes I decided I didn't need or that various cousins had given me that I could return to them, and I also left my ShiDa books with Mark. So the morning of my flight, my uncle picked me up bright and early to stop by my 2nd aunt's house to get the medicine. I only got to actually see what it looked like then, and it wasn't pretty. 10 hefty bags filled with bark shavings, dried leaves and flowers, and other bits of general organic material. Yikes.

But hey, at least it wasn't "powdered tiger umbilical cord" or anything from some endangered animal - at least I hope not. I managed to stuff all but 2 of the bags into my (already strained) suitcase and duffel (which, as an aside, aren't that big - I try to pack light when I can) and we were off to the airport, and I didn't give the medicine another thought.

That is, until tonight. I have had, just now, a bowl of the most putrid concoction I have ever experienced. It's nothing at all like what I've had before, which actually tasted pretty good. This was just gross. And, according to my mother, I can't add anything to help with the taste because it will decrease its "effectiveness." Hah!

My poor brother. Thank God I'm moving back to campus this weekend.

backpedalwhoa (+ racismboo)

So, after my last post, in which I whine and whinge about how unfair life is for poor me, I feel that I must balance out the perspective a bit, as I so often fail to do. Because, to be fair, many of my relatives are purely wonderful, kind-hearted people. Many of them realize that I am different, have grown up in a different culture, and make the effort to understand me. And that is something I truly appreciate, because, really, we are not really all that different, all of us.

I can also understand that they are a conservative clan, having grown up in the circumstances they did, and holding many traditional views about gender roles, respect, education, and filial piety. I am, I know, not as patient as I could be in accepting these cultural differences between me and my relatives.

As of now, all I can do is continue communicating with them, having these talks where we work to understand each other, as I have often had with my aunts regarding dating and race. They are often bemused, or perhaps amused, by my "equal opportunity dating" stance. And while I am not trying to excuse the often blatant racism that exists in Taiwan, I can understand that any homogeneous, conservative society is inevitably going to have difficulty accepting "outsiders" in their midst. I am hoping, through these conversations with my relatives, to help widen that acceptance margin.

And not only are the outsiders of Taiwan many (i.e. all non-East-Asians), but they are also ranked on a graded scale of acceptability. I would say Caucasians are probably at the top, most likely to be accepted (or at least pardoned) by locals here. And, here is no big surprise, dark-skinned and black people rank very low on this scale.

I walk to and from ShiDa every day and see the conglomeration of all these different races, coming for language exchange opportunities, and I love seeing that kind of diversity. But, then I wonder, once they leave the confines of the university and surrounding district, what must it be like to be so starkly different - physically, culturally, and even mentally?

Well, maybe Kevin is right and the current generation is not willing to blindly follow their predecessors into becoming drones of education, and I hope that also means they are more open-minded. I am not seeing that, but of course any change will take time. I am only going to be here for three months, after all.

In all of this, I cannot help but be reminded that, half a globe away back at campus, I have a friend, a black male, who is interested in Chinese and economics and politics, and has this crazy vision of rallying the Asian-Americans to fight for their rights and against racial discrimination in the United States.

Right, well, I think I've babbled on long enough. I have a trip to Thailand to prepare for, and so I will be offline for the next 5 days. What a refreshing change of pace.

Of cabbages and kings

I guess I never wrote about the Hohaiyan Festival; and, in truth, there isn't much to write about. I went on a crowded train with no sitting room to Fulong beach, and was greeted with a scenario very much similar to when I visited Danshui: lots of little tourist shops and game shops and food vendors, bright neon lights and way too many people.

The music itself was hit or miss. The band that was playing when I arrived around 6:30 wasn't bad. There was also a girl with a guitar who was pretty good as well, playing covers of James Blunt's "You're Beautiful" and Coldplay's "Clocks," as well as some Chinese songs. I listened, took pictures, and, after a couple hours, went in search of food. I figured it would be better to leave early and avoid the congestion at the end of the festival. Only realized later that that meant missing Cui Jian, the "Bob Dylan/Bruce Springsteen" of China. Damn.

It probably would have been more fun to have gone to the festival with other people, but no one wanted to take the trip out with me. And, considering I am over the half-way point of my stay in Taiwan, I would like to get out more, even if that means going solo.

How clichéd. But it is true. I am not so much trying to connect to my "roots" as just seeking companionship and a sense of belonging in a place I do not really feel I understand. I'm not sure going to rock concerts alone does this, as I did not meet anyone new there, but what would my alternatives have been? Staying in my apartment? Or going out with my relatives to the next hot new restaurant to laud their food? Or tagging along with my cousins to Sogo or the Breeze Center?

The events of the past few days really brought out this misalignment of interests between me and my peers here. Last night, after a lone dinner at Alleycat's, I went to visit a nearby relative's house, where another cousin had also come to call. My uncle, upon seeing me, declared that he was going to take me out for drinks, and managed to drag my cousin along as well. Turns out he took us to Saints and Sinners, whose environment I thoroughly enjoyed, as my uncle kept pointing out: "See, you're from America! This is your kind of place."

In any case, there was a foosbol table and pool table, much to my delight, and after beating my uncle soundly at foosbol (sorry, Uncle, for the disrespect), we returned to our table and had drinks. I had a way-too-strong gin and tonic, and later ordered fries to help finish off my drink. We chatted inbetween sips and munches, and my cousin noted how I was now going to be busy now, with one uncle wanting to take me out to pubs, and another wanting to take me hiking up mountain trails, and how their respective families will be glad now that they won't have to deal with being pestered about doing these things.

And, yes, that's exactly what I enjoy doing. Going out to bars, maybe shooting some pool, at night, and exploring both the natural and urban trails of Taipei, by foot. I get remarks from my family about how "good at walking" I have become-that is a direct Chinese translation, with connotations that I am slightly too weird and independent for my relatives to understand.

"It's because she's American-born and raised," they say. And I guess it is. What self-respecting Taiwanese girl goes outside, without an umbrella and risking getting skin cancer or, worse, dark skin (cue Hermione Granger voice and Ron's incredulous 'She needs to sort out her priorities') and spends hours tramping around alone instead of buying cute clothes and looking for marriage prospects?

The worst of all of this, because I personally could care less what they think (and that's not necessarily a good thing in any case), is that everything I do reflects back on my mother. She warned me of this very clearly on the car-ride to the airport, told me not to make her look bad, or that she would be unable to go back and face her family.

So...what do I do?



Oh...and also, my moth appears to be a member of the Theretra latreillei species. Hurrah!

Summer's lessons

I realized very quickly, after arriving in Taiwan (and particularly Taipei), that I would be learning much more than the Mandarin classes I would be taking at NTNU. When I came for family reunions the summers I turned 12 and 13, it was all about adventure and sightseeing and eating and tours and traveling and experiencing the enormous entity that is my mother's family.

This time, I am returning as a misplaced offspring of this land and culture. I feel like a Westerner, as foreign as the Caucasian, African, and Hispanic people I've seen on this island. And, really, it's because I am an American first, Taiwanese second. I am sure I am not the only first-generation American with immigrated parents who has been through this conflict of culture and identity.

So, each day that I familiarize myself with a heritage that I feel so little connection with, I find myself beginning to understand my family, my childhood, and, most importantly, my mother, in a new light. Things that had caused the two of us, my mother and I, so much friction before seem easier to comprehend and dissect. Whereas we lacked communication, I have opened dialogues with my aunts, uncles, and cousins.

Perhaps my stay here will prove empowering, in more ways than I had considered. I wonder if I will still consider myself one of the Westerners by the end of the summer.