Dear
Taiwan,
When I first met you, I was like
many graduates, young, excited, idealistic and nervous. Any blind date is
frightening, and I had committed to spending two years with you. When I
arrived, I had been traveling for almost 20 hours, and my mind was filled with
a cloud of weariness almost as thick as the humid air.
As
I traveled along your highways, I stared out the car window looking for
something, anything, that would mark you as the exotic, interesting place I
hoped for. At first, there was nothing. Then the driver pointed out Taipei 101,
a strangely-shaped tower in the distance. But the first thrill of excitement to
break through my exhaustion came with the sight of the Grand Hotel. Tall and
majestic, its red and gold façade had all the elegance I had admired in your
mainland sister, and at that moment, I knew that you had something to offer.
The
years passed, and I became more and more familiar with the bustle of your
streets, the grandeur of your mountains, the colors of your flowers, the
flavors of your food and the welcoming smiles of your people. As friends
introduced me to delight after delight, I realized with a thrill what a
beautiful and interesting place you are.
You
possess beautiful scenery: gorges, waterfalls and mountains, some of which meet
the Pacific ocean in rocky beaches. Your forests are filled with flowers,
animals and butterflies. And all of this is just a few miles from bustling
cities where almost anything can be purchased from one of the convenience
stores that sit on practically every block. I’ve always been more fond of the
wilderness than of the city, but who could complain about a city that has a
mountain range with several hiking trails in its center, as Taipei does?
And
then there’s the food. You introduced me to fruits I had never tasted before –
mango, guava, dragon fruit and pomelo to name a few. And even those I knew were
sweeter. I often wondered whether the pineapple was fruit or candy, and your
cherry tomatoes actually tasted like a fruit (which, biologically, I guess they
are).
Then
there are the many local delicacies I tried. Scallion pancakes fried and
wrapped around eggs or other fillings, small dumplings filled with soup,
noodles with sesame sauce and so many more than I could name. I loved your
nearly infinite variety of teas– black, green, oolong and more mixed with milk
or various kinds of fruit. Then you add tapioca, coconut jelly, fruit pieces or
other things which I only know Chinese names for in the bottom of the cup. Now,
we did have some disagreements over food, mostly when you misunderstood my home
culture, but the hundreds of delicious meals you treated me to more than make
up for the few bizarre ones.
Speaking
of disagreements, I must admit that our first year together was a bit rocky.
I’d never lived on my own, you see, certainly not while working full-time. And
it did take a while for me to get used to you. But at those moments when I felt
most homesick, when I most wanted to get on a plane and fly back to somewhere
familiar, you would show me some unique aspect of your life that I hadn’t seen
before. You would charm me with a building or a food I hadn’t yet tried, and I
would remember that although I had left good things behind, the place I had
come to was also good.
When
that didn’t work, there were always people by my side, encouraging me and
comforting me. I remember an elderly woman giving me a hug and saying, “If you
miss your family, I will be your Taiwanese grandmother. So don’t be sad.” I
remember friends sitting with me over long cups of coffee while I shared about
my life. I remember adventures taken with individuals and groups up mountains,
through city streets, to hole-in-the wall cafés, shops and flower festivals
that I never could have found alone.
Taiwanese
people were incredibly kind and willing to help. Once I dropped my wallet in a
MRT (subway) station, and it was turned in to the information desk with all my
money still inside. I lost count of the times strangers came up to me and asked
if I was lost.
There
are so many things I could say about you, Taiwan; so many things that you have
taught me; so many ways you made my life with you convenient and comfortable. I
have fallen deeply in love with you, Taiwan, so much so that it broke my heart
to leave you. Our three years together have changed my life in ways I am only
beginning to understand. Thank you, Taiwan. Though I have moved back to
America, I will never forget you.
It
would break my heart to say goodbye, so let me end with your own language: Taiwan,
再見 (zai jian). It
literally means “see again,” and I sincerely hope I will.
Love
Elizabeth
Sunshine
孫麗希
