The Taiwanese Locals

Well, I’m off on my 16-week, 105-day trek from Taipei to Rome! I’m not quite sure what to think, as it seems like we’ve already done so much, and it’s only four days into the trip! But what I can say is that this summer will be the most action-packed, crazy summer I’ve ever had. So, let’s jump right in!I’m starting in Taipei with Katherine and Zack, and others will join and leave along the way. Taipei has been nothing short of great. I think it’s a highly slept-on destination for tourism, as I’ve rarely heard of anyone going here just because (there’s always been some other reason as to why) but I’d highly recommend it. There’s loads of history easily accessible from the city, the vibe is still clearly “China” without the chaos and pollution of some of the Chinese megacities, and also, with a tad more foreign influence. The translations here are undoubtably better than on the mainland, and life is easier for Westerners.

But the most amazing part of our four days here in Taiwan, truly, what I’ve felt compelled to write about, has been our unbelievable interactions with the locals. Chinese, and an extension, Taiwanese, culture, heavily values hospitality and respect towards strangers, and that is displayed in full force here. I’d like to share some of our stories from these last four days to thank the Taiwanese for all the amazing help and times they’ve given us.

Our first day, we went to a Buddhist temple right by our hostel, called Longshan Temple. Funny enough, Ruhaan was also in Taipei this day, so he tagged along for our adventure. (And I’m writing a second post about Buddhist traditions here, so there will be more about Longshan Temple later as well). When we got there, we certainly felt a bit out of place. There were, undoubtedly, a few Western (i.e. certainly not Buddhist) tourists there just watching, but the vast majority of people at Longshan were real worshippers, taking their time here seriously. I wasn’t sure if we’d be asked to leave, or if we had to continue moving around and limit taking photos out of respect to the others, and I certainly wasn’t expecting that we would be allowed to pray ourselves, but it turned out, that was wrong.

It started when a 17-year-old guy approached us and asked us where we were from and what our names were. He was excited to meet us, and he wanted to show us around Longshan and tell us about the traditions. He wanted us to feel at home in the temple, and for us to not feel like outsiders. Now, if this were the Middle East or South America, I’d be sketched out by this point. In fact, I’d already been thinking in my head how much money I’d be willing to give him, and how much I’d undercut his asking by. But, he seemed genuine. Those fears, those thoughts swelled and ebbed throughout our time together at the temple, but overall, I had confidence in him that he was just doing something nice for us out of the goodness of his heart.

His name was Bryann, and he just finished his 11th grade year. He just took his exams, and now he has interviews for his summer work coming up very soon. He told us he was at the temple to pray for academic and career success at this important time in his life, and that now that school’s over, he needed something to do when not preparing for his interviews. To him, being here was relaxing and refreshing. I began to trust him more.

He first asked us if we knew how to pray, to which we all said no. We were watching the older ladies kneel, bow, and throw these garlic-shaped wooden blocks at the ground, but we did not know what that signified or why they were doing it. He explained to us very clearly, and after we were done, we all followed suit and prayed. He then took us around to every corner of the temple, explaining to us what each Buddha does, what you would pray to them for, and occasionally we’d stop and pray as well. Overall, he really improved our experience at Longshan. We would have just been walking around, observing instead of experiencing. We said goodbye to Bryann, and he went his own way.

We didn’t leave that quickly, as we stayed back to take some more pictures. I noticed some people waving their wallets over some incense, imagining that this is a wish for money, and I, again, followed suit. Bryann saw me do this, and he came back to share with me the traditions behind this as well. At this point, conversation turned to be about us, and before we knew it, he’d offered to take us to his favorite lunch spot. We walked with him about a half a mile to Wang’s Broth in the Huaxi Street market. He helped us order, and then, we all enjoyed! Overall, we probably spent two hours with Bryann, and he really did an amazing job of making us feel like we can “participate” in Taiwan, not just observe.

Our next interaction was just a few hours later, when we were playing cards in the hostel basement. This old man from Southern Taiwan, Louis, came up to us and asked if we wanted tea. We agreed, put the cards away for a bit, and had a few cups of tea with him. Soon enough, he brought out the whiskey, and soon enough, some others at the hostel, who’d seen what we were up to, joined in with their own wines and beers. So sure, I guess we got drunk, but the point is that what they were doing was very special. They had very rare alcohol for us to try, including Kinmen County wine, which you can only buy in Kinmen County, which is miles away by ferry, much closer to China than to Taipei, as well as special holiday edition of Taiwan’s Classic beer. The entire time, we were talking about what there is to do in Taiwan, about everyone’s experience here and what we plan to do in our short time on the island, and what we should do when/if we come back. The whole afternoon was so much fun, and though my limited Chinese and the others’ limited English certainly made communication difficult, the flowing whiskey meant that all communication was done by “vibes” anyways…

We’ve had plenty, plenty small interactions with locals in our time here that have been equally meaningful, but for fear of sounding too repetitive, I’ll share just one more.

Our third day, we took the gondola far out to the outskirts of what’s considered Taipei. This area has some beautiful views of the city, some stunning temples, and some pretty good hiking as well. Now, it’d rained all morning, and these hikes were on stone trails, which were already covered in moss even on a dry day. I was wearing my Keens, as I didn’t want to get my tennis shoes all soaked in the morning. Well, apparently, Keens don’t have the best grip, and this trail was incredibly slippery, and I slipped and fell, cutting my ankle on the stairs. I found a leaf to act as a band aid, and we continued on, carefully, until we hit the main road.

At that road, we had to consult the map to see where we had to turn to get on the trail to the temple. As we were stopped, and old lady came up to us, nearly yelling, asking us where to go. Now, I’d heard this “yelling” before—it’s the same kind of yelling that Grandmum did the last time I was in a country identifying itself as China—it’s the caring kind of yelling. The tell me what’s wrong now so I can help you kind of yelling. I stayed calm and explained to her where we were going and what the right path to take would be. She insisted on going with us to the trailhead, claiming (correctly) that the path there is rather confusing. We had to go up a flight of those same kind of stairs I slipped on, which she, as a local, took like an absolute beast, at which she advised us to be careful. “Yeah, right, I know that,” responding to her, showing her my bloody ankle. She sprang into action at the sight of that, running to her house to grab some Neosporin and a few band aids. When she came back, she tended to my wound as if it was my mom when I was 5 years old after cutting myself in the backyard with the plastic shovel.

She then insisted that I take her entire tube of Neosporin, which I refused. When I refused, she told me to instead take an entire box of tissues. I took about a dozen when she finally let me not take her whole box.

The whole interaction was exemplary of this Taiwanese care. It is so relieving to know that I’m in a place where I, as a visitor, am respected and not hated. If I was in Paris and cut my foot, I’d get scoffs from locals, claiming that I’m a stupid American and that I can’t do anything right. But here, locals will go out of their way to make you feel welcome.

Taiwan has amazing history, architecture, and a very cool city, but the people are really what make Taiwan Taiwan.

As a disclaimer, this is exactly what I remember mainland China being like as well. I remember always feeling welcomed, I felt taken care of and appreciated. But I’ve seen so much more, met so many more people since, and been to many places where this isn’t the case in the slightest. So it goes significantly more appreciated now, it’s now the exception not the norm, which is sad, because all this takes is to be a compassionate human being…