Reflections on Biblical Studies Part I: How I Got Here

In a little over a week, I’m going to start my second year of my master’s program in Biblical Studies. This summer, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I learned over the first year, and I’d like to share some of my experiences.

The first question is: why did I begin this program in the first place? Before I started graduate school, I lived for a while in Taipei. One thing I did there was leading Bible studies for ESL students. The Bible study, which was called Friday Night Live, brought in a lot of non-Christian students who just wanted to practice English, as well as many Christian students.

At first teaching a Bible study was frankly terrifying. I have a tendency to impose ridiculous expectations on myself and to imagine worst-case scenarios: “If I don’t do a good job teaching this Bible study, our new non-Christian students won’t come back. They won’t have another opportunity to hear the gospel and they’ll die and go to hell, and it will all be my fault!” But one day I was having a conversation with a counselor I was going to, and I confessed some of my fears to her.

She said, “What is the goal of the Bible study?”

I said, “Well, people come to learn English, but our goal is to help them come to know God, or for the Christians to know Him better.”

“Right. And whose responsibility is that?”

Not mine. From that point on, I tried to turn to God when I felt worried about the Bible study and ask for help. And every single time, He came through. Often, the weeks when I went into the Bible study feeling the most exhausted and unprepared were the weeks that went the best. The Holy Spirit just took over, and I spoke far better than I normally would have. After a few years, Friday Night Live was my favorite part of the job.

I think while I was at Bible study, I must have had a flashing neon sign above my head that said, “Ask me the hard questions.” I got questions like, “What’s the difference between socialism and communism?” “Does the kingdom of God include Hell?” and “If God wants us to ‘be fruitful and multiply,’ why did He create gay people?” I did my best to answer these questions, but I also got very comfortable saying “I don’t know” or “Let’s talk about that after class.” I also tried to look up answers for some of them. I actually really enjoyed talking about the hard issues and had some amazing moments when answers came to me that I hadn’t known before. It was thrilling to see God working so clearly, and this convinced me that I wanted to do more teaching, maybe even full-time. And for that, I needed graduate school.

The next question was which sub-field of theology I should focus on. I decided on Biblical studies, also because of my experience overseas. I observed that even the most poetic Chinese songs didn’t work nearly as well in English, even when they were translated accurately. It occurred to me that the Bible also might lose something in translation, even when those translations were made by very competent people. So I resolved to learn Greek and Hebrew, and the most efficient way to do that was to do Notre Dame’s program in Biblical Studies. What I found when I started the program will have to wait for my next post.

Isla Formosa (To the tune of "Hotel California")

One of my hobbies is rewriting song lyrics. It makes me laugh and helps me feel less stressed. This one is inspired by my time on Taiwan, which the Portuguese called "Isla Formosa." It's a very appropriate name, because it means "beautiful island."

Note: You'll probably enjoy this more if you have the lyrics to "Hotel California" in mind as you read. Part of the "game" is keeping the lyrics as close to the original as possible while changing the meaning enough to relate to the new topic.

Isla Formosa

On a dark city side street, humidity in my hair,

Warm smell of choudoufu,* rising up through the air,

Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light

Was growing hungry, so I wandered in

To the night market that night

There she stood at a snack stand; I heard the music’s beat,

And I was thinking to myself, “How do all these people fit in this street?”

Then she gave me a smile, and she showed me the way

There were voices everywhere I turned,

I thought I heard them say,

“Welcome to the Isla Formosa

Such a lovely place (such a lovely place) such a lovely place

We can make room on the Isla Formosa

Any time of year (Any time of year) You can find it here.”

Her mind is not very twisted. She’s got a scooter so small

She’s got a lot of Hello Kitty shirts and wears them all

Then we hike up the mountain, sweet summer sweat

Sometimes it is sunny; always I get wet

So I said at the tea stand, “Please bring me my tea,”

And he said, “I have run this tea stand here since 1993.”

And still those voices are calling from far away,

Wake you up in the middle of the night, just to hear them say,

“Welcome to the Isla Formosa

Such a lovely place (such a lovely place) such a lovely place

Living it up on the Isla Formosa

Such a nice surprise (Such a nice surprise) Eat some mango ice.”

Flowers on the treetops, bubble tea on ice,

And she said, “You should try the food they sell here; it is very nice.”

And in my friends’ apartment we gathered for the feast

Grabbed it with our wooden sticks but we can’t eat all the meat

Last thing I remember I was headed for the plane

Back to the place I was before, where I had to be again

“Relax” said the people. “We are eager to receive

“You can fly back any time you like, but you won’t want to leave!”

* Chinese for stinky tofu. It is very appropriately named. Much like Formosa.

Ten Side Effects of Living in Taiwan

Now that I’m back in the U.S., I’ve noticed some things about me that have changed due to my time away. Here’s a short list:

1.      I often need to be reminded to tip in restaurants.

2.      I feel a little surprised when shoe stores have my size.

3.      Over half my stories start, “When I was in Taiwan …”

4.      But I can’t start these stories any other way, because the fact I was in Taiwan is somehow essential to them.

5.      When I hear the word “foreigner” in any context, I somehow feel like the word is referring to me.

6.      I feel homesick for a place where I was never considered a local.

7.      These feelings of homesickness are often triggered by seeing a 7-11.

8.      But if I go into that 7-11, I will inevitably be disappointed by the poor tea selection.

9.      When talking to strangers, I find myself restructuring sentences to avoid difficult words, only to realize that, yes, other grad students do know the term lingua franca.

10.   I get ridiculously excited about things like colorful autumn leaves and frost.

Obviously, these are not the most important take-aways from my time in Taiwan, but they are real. So if you want to travel overseas, be warned: your opinion of 7-11 will never be the same!

On Religious Parades

Before I went to Taiwan, I always thought of idols in one of three ways. Either they were gods worshipped in the distant past, they were modern pop stars as in “American Idol” or they were things that Christians today put ahead of God, such as money or having a good reputation. But after moving to Asia I realized that idolatry, in the most literal sense of the word, is alive and thriving in many places.

One Sunday night at around 8:00 p.m., the street outside my house exploded. If I lived anywhere else, I would probably have thought there was a gunfight. But in Taiwan, I assumed that it was just firecrackers. The bangs were accompanied by loud, raucous music. It was so noisy that I found myself putting my hands over my ears to stop them from hurting.

Apparently that was the night of a religious festival, probably a local deity’s birthday. These festivals are usually celebrated with parades, and this one started right outside my apartment.

The parade featured people in elaborate costumes, which represent either deities or protective spirits, that dance while music is played. People also carry the statues of the deities, which normally rest in temples, through the streets. These statues rest in elaborate boxes carried on poles by teams of people, kind of like a sedan chair. Traditionally the carriers bounce the boxes to give the deities a more enjoyable ride.

This parade also had fireworks, not just firecrackers, as well as a truck that was playing Western music, such as “Trouble” by Taylor Swift. (I wish that were a joke.) As they were getting ready before it started, I also spotted a flat-bed truck with a pole and a young woman who looked like she was going to be dancing on it.

My first reaction was frustration and anger at the noise. The sound was almost causing me physical pain, and there was no way I could get anything done with that cacophony outside.

But then my conscience caught up with me, and I thought of God. It was as if the Holy Spirit said to me, “How do you think I feel?” I realized that this parade, which in my mind was nothing more than a nuisance that should be shut down with a noise ordinance, was actually much more. It was an expression of a false religion, an act of worship given to a god that cannot save. Moreover, in worshipping this idol, the people there were despising and ignoring their Creator, who I love dearly.

Acting on impulse, I went downstairs to get a closer look. That was when I saw the costumed people dancing and posing in the street. There was a police officer directing traffic around the parade. And I saw a crowd of young men walk by, carrying the box with the idol, my frustration at the noise began to fade. I wondered what was going through their minds, whether they really believed they were holding a god or whether they were just participating in a fun cultural activity. I wondered the same about all the people in the parade.

Taiwan is quite highly developed as a whole. It has great public transportation, some very impressive buildings, and goods from all over the world. Almost all the young people have smartphones, and they tend to act surprised when they learn I don’t have one. And yet the country is still in the grip of superstition and pagan religious practices.

I’m not usually one to complain about other cultures. I’m all for experiencing and learning about new kinds of food, music, clothing, art, etc. Finding out about other countries can make our lives much more interesting. I also think Chinese culture has a lot of values it can teach us in the West, such as the importance of caring for one’s parents.

But religion doesn’t fall into either of those categories. It isn’t a morally neutral thing you can add into your life, like trying a new food or buying some calligraphy to hang on your wall. It isn’t even a moral statement everyone can recognize intuitively, accept and act on.

No, religion is fundamentally a statement of the way the world works. And that means if any religion is true, anyone who rejects it is believing a lie. I think Christianity is true. (If I didn’t, I would not be a Christian.) And if I’m right, these people are not only wasting their time; they’re actively insulting the God of the universe by choosing to worship something else.

After a few minutes, I turned away from the parade because I was choking up. The sight of so many people so lost and confused broke my heart. It was humbling for me to realize how little I cared about my Taiwanese neighbors. At first I didn’t care what these people were doing, as long as they didn’t interrupt my quiet evening at home. 

But for those of us who love the Lord, idolatry is not just a nuisance. It is a sin against God and a tragedy for people. If we listen with the ears of Christ, the sounds of the parade are really a cry for help.

Dear Taiwan: A Love Letter

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

Lessons From Lanterns

            Last Friday was Valentine’s Day, but here in Taiwan it was also Lantern Festival. This holiday is celebrated on the fifteenth day of the Chinese New Year.

Some places celebrate Lantern Festival by creating huge sculptures out of paper, cloth or thin plastic and placing lights inside, turning them into giant lanterns. I have seen these sculptures featuring animals (this year there are a lot of horses because it’s the year of the horse), flowers, buildings video game characters and more. Sometimes people will set up whole scenes depicting historical events or traditions.

Others celebrate with “sky lanterns,” which are shaped like light bulbs about the size of my torso. People write wishes on the lanterns and light fires in the bottom. Then they release the lanterns into the sky. A town outside of Taipei called Pingxi is especially known for its sky lanterns.

Last year I went to Pingxi on the day of the lantern festival. I arrived in the middle of the day, but people were already releasing sky lanterns. As I watched the lanterns rise and blow away, I thought they moved gracefully enough, but I didn’t see why they were such a big deal. They looked like large balloons some poor child had let go of, not particularly beautiful.

I met a few friends, and we stayed until after the sun set. Lanterns continued floating up into the air, but they no longer looked like balloons. Now they resembled iridescent jellyfish in the depths of the sea or colored stars rising into the night. The same things that had left me cold a few hours earlier had been transformed into something mystical and hypnotic.

By this time, a huge crowd had descended on Pingxi (or rather, ascended – Pingxi is on a mountain). They gathered in a field where a stage was set up. In between speeches and performances they invited people to step into the space at the center and release the lanterns at the same time. The beauty of each individual lantern was multiplied as they rose together.

I found myself thinking of Jesus’ words in Matthew 5:14 – “You are the light of the world.” Sometimes, it feels like the world is covered in darkness – wars, terrorism, disease, natural disasters … The evil around us can feel as vast and threatening of a night sky on a new moon when the stars are hidden by clouds. But it’s those nights when any light – even a tiny lantern – appears the most beautiful. As much as I love bright, sunny days (both figuratively and literally), sunny weather is not the time you appreciate sky lanterns most. It is the dark times that truly show what we are made of and that reveal the light of Christ shining through us.

Yet in those dark times, a single lantern, however bright, can only do so much. When we rise up as a community, then we turn the night sky into a backdrop for a dance of light. It is when we rise together that the world can see the light isn’t a fluke, a mistake, or a trick their eyes are playing on them. Through us they will see Jesus, who also called Himself the light of the world and who is the one who makes us shine.

Chasing Dawn

I began the year 2014 with an adventure. Invited by my friend Zoe, I traveled to Keelung, a city on the northern coast of Taiwan. There Zoe, two other friends and I saw the harbor and a night market, enjoyed a meal of hot pot (meat, vegetables and noodles that you cook at your table in boiling broth) and watched fireworks. This was fun, but the excitement really began during the next leg of our trip, a journey to Fulong Beach on Taiwan’s northeast coast to watch the first sunrise of the new year.

The trip to Fulong itself was an adventure. Twice we were asked to wait for later trains because the earlier ones were too crowded. The train we did get on was hot and packed full of people. After a 50-minute train ride we got off, and the station was so full of people that it took us about 40 minutes to get out. And all this happened at the time of night when I was feeling most tired.

But finally we arrived at Fulong. Zoe and I rented bikes at the train station to travel to the place where we would watch the sunrise, while our third friend, Belinda, decided to take a shuttle bus and meet us at our destination. (The other friend had gone back to Taipei to rest.) All my frustration and tiredness melt away as I glided out of the station and down the slope toward the seashore. Taipei has too much light, pollution and cloud cover for stars to be visible there on most nights. But Fulong is far smaller, and it was a clear night, so I was delighted to see stars scattered above us.

Street lights and windows on some nearby buildings provided some illumination, but the path was quite dark. At several points, I couldn’t see the road itself, so I had to steer by looking at a wall that ran beside the bike path or by Zoe’s head as she rode in front of me. At one point it became so dark that we rode by the light of Zoe’s smartphone flashlight.

Even when the path ran next to the highway and our road was illuminated, the ocean lay in a field of blackness to our left. The utter lack of even a distant lamp or a faint star made the water appear as a shadow within a shadow. I found myself thinking of Genesis 1:2. “The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.” I took comfort in the knowledge that God’s spirit is still hovering over Taiwan and all the earth, ready to bring light and hope out of the darkness that blankets our world.

After what I think was about 40 minutes of riding, we reached the spot where the shuttle busses dropped people off to walk up a mountain where they would watch the sunrise. But police officers blocked our way and told us we couldn’t bring our bikes up. We didn’t want to leave the bikes because the rental shop hadn’t given us locks. Belinda had already started up the mountain and was left without a cellphone signal. Zoe sent her a text message, hoping it would get through, and we continued on to look for another place to watch the sunrise.

Then we saw another, smaller path up to the top of the mountain. This path had fewer people, so we walked our bikes up the hill. This worked well for about five minutes, but then the slope changed into stairs.

Zoe and I walked on the concrete stairs, rolling our bikes up the muddy slope beside us. There were a few points where we had to lift our bikes over obstacles or move them to the other side of the stairs. People coming down from the top kept telling us that there were too many people and we couldn’t bring our bikes all the way up, but we were determined to try. When the path finally got to steep, we hid the bikes in the bushes by the trail.

We were hot and tired when we reached a plateau overlooking the ocean. Hundreds of people were gathered there to watch the sunrise. Singers were performing on a stage, and several representatives from the local government spoke. By the time we arrived, it was around 5:45, and the sun was expected to appear at 6:37. So we stood listening to the music and watching the sky grow lighter.

Soon pink and purple clouds appeared in the eastern sky. They then faded as the light grew and the whole sky turned silvery gray. The crowd waited eagerly as the set time came and went. The sun was still not visible because the horizon was covered with clouds.

Finally at around 6:45 the sun rose above the clouds, and the crowds cheered. We had reached the goal of our adventure. Zoe and I found Belinda and enjoyed the view of the sun rising over the ocean. The road back was incredibly beautiful, once it was light enough that I could see it. When I returned to the Fulong train station, I was tired but happy.

When I watch the news, I often become discouraged at the amount of violence, suffering and evil in the world. The Earth is a dark place, and sometimes it seems like it’s just getting darker. But just like the crowds waiting for the first dawn of 2014, we know that light will come into the world. God has promised to bring a new day free of darkness, confusion, war and pain. We may not know when it will come, but we can be as certain that God will fulfill His word as we are that the sun will rise each day. He is present in our darkness and will move decisively to bring an end to it once and for all.

None of us know what 2014 will bring. It may be a year full of toil and struggle, or it may be full of sunlight and beautiful views. But we can take courage, because we know how our adventure will end: with the defeat of the darkness and the dawn of a new, perfect day.

Mongolia Report

This past June, my parents and I went on a mission trip to Mongolia. It was a wonderful opportunity for me to see and participate in God’s amazing work in that country.

We spent most of our time in Khenti, a province in northeastern Mongolia. It consisted mostly of grasslands full of wildflowers. Distant mountains on the horizon marked the end of miles and miles of sky. This beautiful country is very sparsely populated (about 3 million people in 1,565,000 square kilometers). Most of its people are nomadic herders who live in gers (also called yurts/蒙古包). Each county has a central town (though by Taiwanese or American standards they’re really villages) with stores, gas stations, etc. Some people build wooden houses in these centers; others pitch their gers in the town, often in a relative’s back yard.  Others live in the countryside and only visit the county center to buy necessities like food and gas. Outside the central part of the country there is no running water, and all roads are made of dirt.

In Mongolia, my parents and I worked with an organization called V.E.T. Net. Based in Mongolia’s capital, Ulaanbaatar, V.E.T. Net was started by a group of Christian veterinarians to help provide veterinary training. Veterinarians are vital for a society so centered on herding. Yet veterinary training isn’t very good; some veterinary school graduates have never even worked on an animal. V.E.T. Net provides training and high-quality medicines to help these veterinarians serve their communities. Since it is a Christian organization, it uses this to open doors for the Gospel.

V.E.T. Net’s mission expanded over time to include other kinds of teaching. One program called Claim a County sends pairs of teachers throughout Mongolia. They run summer schools for the herders’ children, teaching English and Biblical principles. Some children only get to attend school in the summer because in the winter their families live too far from the county center. The English lessons attract many children from grades 1 to 12, and night classes for adults often begin, too. All the teachers are Christians, and frequently, the love they show to the communities lead to churches being planted. The program is very well-received. Some county leaders even beg the teachers to stay beyond the three-year limit.

           

My parents and I traveled to several of the counties involved in the Claim a County program. We traveled with my father’s friend Morris (an American who has done many short mission trips to Mongolia), a Mongolian driver named Jagaa, and the president of V.E.T. Net, Ganzo, who translated for us. First we visited a few areas where the program was over to encourage believers. My father led devotions for both our team and local people every day, except for one day when I led devotions. Morris, a businessman, led workshops about budgeting and personal finance. We also spent time talking to the locals with Ganzo’s help and listening to their stories.

We spent three days at the first county center and then moved to a second. But next day we heard some terrible news. A van carrying some teachers who planned to meet us had rolled over. We rushed toward the next county center, where my parents, Morris and I were supposed to wait while Ganzo and Jagaa went to help the accident victims. A local Christian leader went with us. Eventually, we reached a point where the road was so flooded that we could not pass, so we turned to find another route. But then our van sank into the mud. After a lot of pushing and gathering wood and stone to put under the tires, we realized we couldn’t get it out. My parents and I got in the local Christian leader’s car with Ganzo and drove toward the next town center looking for a truck to pull our van out. We finally found a ger with a truck outside, only to discover that the truck was out of gas. We agreed to buy gas at the next county center, bring it back and pay to use the truck. My parents and I were dropped off at a dormitory where we would be staying.

Ganzo and the local Christian leader got the truck, pulled the van out and went to get the other van. Meanwhile, we received a call from one of the teachers who had been in the accident. She was only a bit bruised, but the other teacher had injured her arm. The driver had seemed fine at first, but it turned out he had a concussion, and at this point its effects were just becoming plain. But no one at the dormitory knew enough English to explain this to us. All we were told was, “The driver … his body is very bad.”

Praise God, our team was able to pick them up and bring them to the hospital (really a clinic) in the center where we were staying. The next day Jagaa drove them back to Ulaanbaatar to get medical treatment. Now, they are all safe and recovering.

The county where we ended up was in its first year of Claim a County. We worked with two wonderful teachers, Mogi and Nara. I spent lots of time with Mogi, the English teacher. Her “textbook English” was excellent, but since she didn’t have much contact with native speakers, she had some trouble with pronunciation. So she had me teach the students all the new vocabulary, read passages out loud and generally help in the class. The children were very enthusiastic and eager to ask us questions about ourselves. They were divided into two classes: grades 1-6 and grades 7-12. Eventually, Mogi divided the younger class in half because of the age difference and the class’s size. It had over 40 students. I really enjoyed getting to know Mogi. She was a very kind young woman who clearly cared about her students and wanted to be the best teacher she could be. My parents and Morris visited Nara’s character education class and said she was also an excellent teacher.

After four days at that county center, Jagaa returned, so we moved on to one more county center. We couldn’t sit in on classes there, but we brought the teachers some supplies. We spent the night in a ger and then got up early to make our way across the bumpy dirt roads back to Ulaanbaatar.

I was continually amazed at the faith, generosity and hospitality of the Christians I met in Mongolia. The country is mostly Tibetan Buddhist, and Christians are an extreme minority, so they experience a lot of pressure from neighbors and relatives. But they have a truly inspiring love for God and for each other. The work I did in Mongolia was only a small contribution to God’s mission there, but it is a contribution I was honored to make.

On Being a Racial Minority

I’m pretty much the opposite of what most Americans think of as a racial minority. I’m a white girl who grew up going to a mostly-white school in suburban Connecticut.

I was raised on the belief that racial discrimination was wrong, and I acted accordingly. Of course I saw that people looked different, but I tried to treat everyone the same, without making assumptions based on what they looked like. One of my closest friends in high school was Indian (that is, her parents were from India). I even had crushes on boys from at least four different races.

But as I tried to ignore racial differences, I also ignored the different experiences of people of different races. I condemned obvious instances of racism but missed a lot of the subtle prejudices in the society around me and possibly in my own heart. The first time I considered that I might be missing something was when an Asian American friend of mine in college kept mentioning race. He’d make comments about how he felt in large groups of Asians, compared to how he felt in large groups of white people. I began to wonder: could the fact that I grew up as a majority have blinded me? If my race were something that made me different, would I consider it more important?

That question was answered for me when I moved to Asia a year ago. Now I am a minority. And I notice it.

Last year, I had pretty bad culture shock. There were a lot of things involved with it: the language, different habits, uncertainty about how to act, confusion about how to get around, sheer exhaustion and so on. But one thing that really got on my nerves was the sense that people could take one look at me and know I was foreign. It was like I had a big neon sign saying “wai guo ren” (Chinese for “foreigner”) hanging above my head.

Most people weren’t mean about it. Sometimes they were quite friendly and came up to me to practice their English. Sometimes they complimented me on my Chinese (even if I didn’t deserve it). But sometimes when I walked into a store, they would hide or run around looking for an English-speaking coworker. Sometimes they shouted “HELLO HELLO HELLO” until I acknowledged them. Sometimes small children stared at me on the subway.

Is it the same as the experience of a minority in America? No, not at all. I think it’s probably better in some ways and worse in others. On the one hand, culture shock combines with the fact that I look different to make me feel even more like an outsider. On the other hand, I think it would be harder to feel like you stood out if you were in your home country at the time.

So do I understand what it’s like to be a racial minority? Not really. I know what it’s like for me, but each person’s background and personality will make their experience different. Do I understand it better than I did two years ago? Absolutely. Am I more understanding and empathetic to those who have this kind of experience? I hope so. At the very least, I now know that race does matter. It matters because it’s part of how people experience the world and consequently a part of who we are.

Ten Things I Love About Taiwan (and Five I Don't) part 5

I have now been living in Taipei for one year. For the most part, I love it here, but as with any place, there are a few things I don’t like so much. So I plan to post a series about the best and worst things for a foreigner living here.  Each day I’ll cover two things I love and one I don’t so I can keep things balanced. They are grouped based on themes, not based on how strongly I feel about them.

Things I Like:

9. Awesome Foreigners

Expatriates are a really cool group of people. Although there aren’t a lot of foreigners in Taipei, we all tend to find each other because we tend to hang out at the same places, work at the same jobs and have many friends in common. After all, it’s easy to make friends with someone who speaks your native language and who shares the joys and frustrations of trying to find their way through the maze that is Taiwanese culture. But in many cases, our status as “Wai-guo-ren,” or foreigners, is almost the only thing we have in common.  This actually leads to many interesting conversations, especially about the places we come from. For example, I have learned more about South Africa in the past year than in all the previous years of my life combined. In Taiwan, I’ve met people from Canada, England, Holland, France, South Africa, Singapore, Malaysia, the Philippines, Korea, Japan, New Zealand and probably a few other countries that are slipping my mind right now. I’m learning a lot about different cultures – and not just Taiwanese/Chinese culture.

Expatriates are also interesting because they tend to have a broader perspective and more travel experience than most other people. I haven’t visited many countries in Asia, so I’m always fascinated to hear stories about other people’s travels and to dream about all the places I’d like to visit. We live in such a big, colorful, fascinating, diverse world, and living in even one country outside your home can help you take in much more of it.

10. Awesome Locals

 Taiwanese people are incredibly friendly. I’m not just saying this because I’m used to cold, aloof New Englanders – everyone I mention this to agrees with me. I pretty regularly have people strike up conversations with me on busses or subways, at restaurants and in shops. In most cases, they speak to me in English, which could be caused by a desire to practice their English or an assumption that I don’t speak Chinese, but I prefer to think of it as their way of being hospitable. Once they find out where I’m from and how long I’ve been here, people are always eager to hear what I think of Taiwan (especially the food). They’ll ask if I miss home, give me tips about where to go and what to do, and in some cases offer to help me out in some way. Of course I’ve had a few bad experiences, but these were mostly cultural misunderstandings, and many of them arose from people being a bit too friendly.

The Taiwanese are very polite; they wait in line and apologize if they inconvenience you. I also feel very safe here. One time I dropped a small wallet that had a little cash and my transportation card in a metro station. I didn’t realize this for about ten minutes, but when I returned, someone had turned the wallet in to the information desk. My card and all my money were still there. Obviously, I don’t recommend leaving money lying around, but this experience does say something good about Taiwan as a whole. That’s why when the locals ask me what I like about Taiwan, I always respond “The food and the people.”

Things I Don’t

5. Not Being at Home

In spite of all the awesome people I meet in Taiwan, I can’t stop missing the awesome people I left behind. Once in a while, especially when I’m tired after a long day of work or other activities, I find myself thinking longingly of eating dinner with my family, playing games with my brother or staying up late playing cards, watching TV or having deep discussions with my college friends. I guess that’s an inevitable part of living away from home, and in a sense I’m glad of it. This lingering homesickness is proof that what I had back in America was good and valuable and that it is still a deep part of who I am. It would be very sad if I never looked back on the past, never missed my family, never wanted to return to where I came from. That’s the hardest part of living in Taiwan, and sometimes I think that if I could bring my loved ones here with me, I would be perfectly happy. But I’m realizing that leaving some things behind is an inevitable part of growing up, and that we need to keep and treasure the good things in our past while we move on into the intimidating but invigorating adventure that is our future.

Ten Things I Love About Taiwan (And Five I Don't) part 4

I have now been living in Taipei for one year. For the most part, I love it here, but as with any place, there are a few things I don’t like so much. So I plan to post a series about the best and worst things for a foreigner living here.  Each day I’ll cover two things I love and one I don’t so I can keep things balanced. They are grouped based on themes, not based on how strongly I feel about them.

 Things I like:

7.  Adventures around every corner

                This one is kind of a general term, but I’ll try to explain what I mean. I’m a very adventurous person, so one of the things I love about being in another culture is the fact that things are so different. I already wrote about Taiwanese food, but even if it wasn’t so good, I’d still be trying just about everything. I’m proud of being willing to taste almost anything offered to me. I figure if it’s good, I’ve had a fun experience, and if it’s gross, I get a good story out of it.

                But more generally, I enjoy the strange things I see walking down the street. I like looking at the little carts that drive around selling snacks. I live near a fashion design school, so the students’ clothing is often quite interesting. The birds, trees and flowers are different from the ones at home, so to me they seem especially beautiful and exotic. There are some really beautiful old buildings around, too (but most of them are Buddhist temples, which makes me a little sad). Every time I take off for a place I haven’t seen before, I get a thrill because I know a new experience is just around the corner.

8. Night markets

                One type of adventure I am particularly fond of is walking through Taiwan’s night markets. They tend to be insanely crowded, so I like them best in small doses, but they are certainly an interesting cultural experience. I tend to think of them as a college student’s dream come true: very cheap food and clothing.

                Many night markets exist in streets with shops that are always open and at night wheel out racks into the street to compete with the stands that line the road only after dark. Vendors wheel carts in or lay down blankets in the middle of the street offering jewelry, shoes, skirts, hats, souvenirs and tee-shirts, sometimes with hilariously bad English (or “Chinglish”). Periodically, many of these booths pack up their wares and run into a dark alley where they hide for a few minutes. This is because they don’t have licenses and they have received word that the police are coming to do a raid. But within five or ten minutes, the illegal booths are back and continuing their business. Of course, there are some legal businesses that remain open constantly. The streets are usually packed with people as lights shine in many colors and pop music in Chinese, Korean or English blares from the stores’ speakers. (If you stand in just the right place, you may end up listening to two songs at once, which can be quite a weird experience.)

                I already wrote about Taiwanese food, but night market food definitely deserves a mention. You’ll see carts, stands and shops selling baked, boiled or fried buns stuffed with meat or vegetables; wraps with a variety of meat; vegetables and ground peanuts; oyster omelets held together with a sticky batter; shaved ice topped with fresh fruit, nuts, sweetened beans of various kinds or various flavors of jelly and tapioca balls; freshly cut fruit, including cherry tomatoes stuffed with dried figs; and drink stands selling tea mixed with milk or fruit juice as well as fruit smoothies made of freshly cut fruit put in a blender with milk and/or ice. This would be a mouth-watering combination of smells if it weren’t for the distinctive and ubiquitous scent of stinky tofu, a well-named type of fermented tofu served boiled or fried with pickled vegetables.  You can easily get dinner, a drink and a dessert at a night market for much less than $10, and it’s a great way to remind yourself of the fun side of living in a different culture.

Things I don’t

4. Guessing Games

                The other side of living in another country, though, is the sheer amount of things you don’t know. My reading ability in Chinese has improved a lot in the past year, but it doesn’t mean I can read every sign I see, so when I need to buy something specific, like baking ingredients, I often spend a significant amount of time wandering through the store before I give up and ask someone. Then they usually take me to a shelf I already looked at and point to something I missed the first time I went through. The other challenge is figuring out what brand to buy, since I’m not familiar with all of them and the ones I do know tend to be more expensive.  I usually go with the least expensive option, but sometimes, one brand will have two types of the product that cost the same amount. For example, today I bought some shampoo. I chose a brand that was on sale and that had two kinds: one with an orange label and one with a green label. I knew they were both shampoo, but I had no idea what the difference was. So I picked the orange label at random and decided to just see how it works.

                Language barriers aside, my other least favorite guessing game is trying to figure out the toilets. They have two kinds of toilets here: Western-style ones and squat toilets. The squat toilets are made of porcelain, and they do flush, but there’s nothing to sit on. I can use them, but I prefer not to. Many public places will have both kinds of toilets, and sometimes they are labeled, but often they are not. In that case, I just have to guess which one to go into. I have learned that stalls with doors that start well above the ground are always Western-style, for obvious reasons, but doors that almost touch the ground can go either way. When I went back to the States on vacation, I still remember the rush of excitement I got from walking into the airport restroom and realizing I didn’t have to guess what kind of toilet I’d go into!

Ten Things I Love About Taiwan (and Five I Don't) part 3

I have now been living in Taipei for one year. For the most part, I love it here, but as with any place, there are a few things I don’t like so much. So I plan to post a series about the best and worst things for a foreigner living here.  Each day I’ll cover two things I love and one I don’t so I can keep things balanced. They are grouped based on themes, not based on how strongly I feel about them.

Things I like:

5.  7-11

                I hear the question marks popping into existence above my American readers’ heads. “What?” they say, “We have 7-11’s in the States, too. And they’re nothing special! Did Elizabeth put this in the wrong post?” Meanwhile, my readers in Taiwan are saying, “Yes, of course.”

                Yes, we have 7-11’s in the States. No, they are nothing like 7-11’s in Taiwan. In fact, if I owned a Taiwanese 7-11, I would be embarrassed by the pathetic excuses for convenience stores in America. I would probably go on a rant about how they are a disgrace to the noble name of 7-11, or something.

                But I’m not going to do that now. Instead, I’m going to talk about how wonderful Taiwanese 7-11’s are. They have walls covered with interesting drinks (fruit juice, tea, flavored milk, soymilk in different flavors, etc.) They have food including sandwiches, noodles, rice wraps, fruit and fresh salads, as well as chips and other junk food. You can also buy things including (but not limited to) soap, washcloths, umbrellas, cat food and disposable underwear. (Ok, that last one is a bit weird, but someone must use it, or they wouldn’t sell it.) My cell phone is on a plan where I add money to the sim card periodically, and both the card and the ways to add money come from 7-11. I’ve also booked train tickets and seen friends get tickets for concerts there. And if you don’t have a mailing address, you can ask FedEx to send your package to 7-11 so you can pick it up.  And based on my observations, at any point in Taipei, there is at least one 7-11 within two blocks of you. Actually, there will usually be one closer. In fact, There are now four within a 10-minute walk from my house. And one of my coworkers apparently defines a small town as one where you have to drive to 7-11, rather than having one within walking distance.

6.  Convenient Transportation

                Taipei has an amazing public transportation system. I have a subway stop just outside of my apartment that will send me to the center of town in about 20 minutes. The subways here are some of the cleanest in the world, or so I’ve heard. This is because they are very strict in enforcing rules against eating, drinking or even chewing gum on the bus. If you break these rules, people will take pictures of you with their cellphones and report you to authorities. The subways are very convenient and reliable, and they go to most of the popular destinations in the city. And they announce stops in four languages: Mandarin, Taiwanese, Hakka (another Chinese dialect) and English.

                Taipei also has an extensive bus system. The busses go all over, and it’s a flat rate of US$0.50, even for the 45-minute ride to my church. Some of the bus stops have neon signs that will display how long it will be until the next bus. It’s nice knowing how long you’ll have to wait. If it will be a long time, you can go to 7-11 and buy a drink!

Things I Don’t:

3. Comments about my appearance

                We Americans have a reputation for being blunt. We’re very straightforward about most things, like asking for help and making suggestions. In contrast, Asians tend to be much more indirect about those things, dropping hints which we Americans generally can’t pick up on. But there are a few areas in which this is reversed. Here, the charging rhino of American bluntness becomes a timid mouse in comparison to the Taiwanese approach. And one of these is comments on people’s appearance.

                In Taiwan, it appears that the rule of etiquette is “if you can see it, you can talk about it.” This means that people have no qualms on going up to you and pointing out that you’re overweight, or that you have a lot of pimples, or that your hair is going gray. In some cases, people have come up to me and said, “You should stay out of the sun, and don’t eat too much oily food.” It took me a minute to realize they referring to my pimples. (I have a lot of pimples here, which I think is caused by pollution.) When describing people’s appearance, people have often referred to mutual acquaintances as “the fat girl (or boy, but in my experience it’s mostly been girls).” Part of the reason for this is that the usual way Americans describe people isn’t available here. We usually talk about hair color and texture, but in Asia, saying “the girl with the straight, black hair” doesn’t get you very far. But even when I understand it, it still shocks me when I hear it.

Ten Things I Love About Taiwan (and Five I Don't) part 2

I have now been living in Taipei for one year. For the most part, I love it here, but as with any place, there are a few things I don’t like so much. So I plan to post a series about the best and worst things for a foreigner living here.  Each day I’ll cover two things I love and one I don’t so I can keep things balanced. They are grouped based on themes, not based on how strongly I feel about them.

Things I like:

3. Beautiful Scenery

                I’ve always loved mountains, and Taiwan has more than its fair share of them, especially for such a small island. Over Chinese New Year last year, I went to Chia’yi, County in central Taiwan. I’ll never forget standing on top of the high mountains surrounded by tea bushes while what looked like a sea of clouds stretched out under my feet. Then there’s Hualien, a city surrounded by mountains on one side and the Pacific Ocean on the other. A few weeks ago, I went swimming on a beach there where the mountains spread right up to the edge of the sea. Almost anywhere you go in Taiwan is incredibly beautiful, especially once you get away from Taipei.

4. Easily available hiking trails

                About a fifteen-minute walk from my house, a small street, about the width of a driveway, winds up a hill and is hidden by the trees. If you walk up this street, you soon come to a hiking trail that runs along the mountain side. It’s a fairly steep trek up the mountain, but when you get to the top the path intersects a beautiful trail that runs in both directions. To the right, it takes you toward Miramar, a famous mall that is known for its large ferris wheel. The path to the left winds toward the Grand Hotel, a large, beautiful building with classical Chinese-style architecture. If you continue past the hotel, it turns and you can go down near Shilin Night Market (which I’ll discuss in a later post). No matter which way you turn, you can get amazing views of Taipei City, most of which are dominated by the distinctive shape of the Taipei 101 building. I tend to think of Taipei 101as the Eiffel Tower of Taipei. If you look in the right direction, you can see it from almost anywhere in the city, and in many people’s minds it is a symbol of Taipei.

                But even if I didn’t live so close to this trail, I could still get to a hiking trail from most parts of Taipei. This is because Taipei is in a valley surrounded by mountains. While living here, I’ve learned that going hiking is one of the best things I can do for my mental health, both because it is exercise and because it lets me be out in nature. The wide variety of tree, flowers and butterflies I always see on the trail remind me of how unique and wonderful my experience here is.

Things I don’t:

2. Acid rain

                As much as I like hiking, I don’t do it if it’s raining outside. Taiwanese people seem a bit paranoid about rain, and they claim it’s because the rain here contains acid that will make your hair fall out. I don’t know if that is true, but I try to keep my head dry as much as possible. Why take unnecessary risks?

                Actually, the acid rain thing is part of a larger problem of pollution. The pollution in Taipei is nowhere near as bad as in certain other Asian cities I’ve lived in. But that’s not saying much – the other city had days where I could barely see buildings 30 feet in front of me because there were so many gray particles floating in the air. As I said, Taipei isn’t that bad. But on its worst days, that view of Taipei 101 I was talking about gets mostly blocked by smog. Some of my foreign friends have gotten nasty respiratory infections, which we think were caused by the pollution.  For what it’s worth, I’ve gathered that the pollution isn’t from Taiwan itself; it floats over from mainland China. But no matter where it comes from, it’s a downside to living here.

Ten Things I Love About Taiwan (and Five I Don't) part 1

I have now been living in Taipei for one year. For the most part, I love it here, but as with any place, there are a few things I don’t like so much. So I plan to post a series about the best and worst things for a foreigner living here.  Each day I’ll cover two things I love and one I don’t so I can keep things balanced. They are grouped based on themes, not based on how strongly I feel about them.

Things I Like:

1. Delicious food

                One afternoon this week, I stopped at one of the many drink stands that line the street near my home to get a papaya smoothie.  My Caucasian face and heavily accented Chinese immediately revealed to the woman who was running the stand that I was a foreigner. She asked me how long I’d been in Taiwan, and whether I liked it. When I assured her that I really like it here, she immediately pointed out Taiwan’s greatest point of pride – “There are lots of good things to eat here!”

                The locals are always talking about how good the food is, and with good reason. It would take a long time to describe all the food, so I'll just mention some highlights. Some of my favorite dishes include: noodles with sesame sauce; flaky scallion pancakes that are often served wrapped around eggs or other fillings; dumplings of all kinds (They come boiled, fried or steamed, with a wide variety of meats and vegetables inside. Some will even have sweet fillings and become dessert. And still others are made with dough that has risen, so they look more like stuffed buns); dou gan (tofu with a denser texture that is often served as an appetizer with soy sauce; and danbing, a breakfast food consisting of thin pancakes that are fried and filled with egg and other toppings of your choice. There are also a lot of foods from different countries here. Within a 10-minute walk of my house there are Chinese, Korean, Japanese, Italian, American and Vietnamese restaurants. They don’t always get Western food exactly right (I’ve seen seafood kimchi spaghetti and pizza with corn, peas, mushrooms and pineapple), but you can always find something good to eat.

2. Tropical fruit

This could fall under the category of food, but it’s so amazing that it deserves its own point. I’m from New England, so I had never eaten a lot of the fruits we get here. Fresh mangoes are one of my favorites, as is something called a Buddha head fruit. Buddha head fruits are light green with lumps. When you break them open there is a creamy white pulp with large black seeds. You don’t eat the seeds or the skin, but the pulp is tasty. I’ve also come to love guavas, which are round and green on the outside and either white or magenta on the inside. They have a mild but very nice flavor. Another common fruit here is called wax apples. They’re red on the outside and white on the inside and shaped like rounded triangles. They have a texture similar to watermelon, but they’re a bit more sour.

Fruits we get at home are also better here. Bananas are really cheap and very good. But my favorite Taiwanese fruit is pineapple. They have the bright yellow pineapples we get in the U.S., but there is another kind that is paler yellow and amazingly sweet. Once I was eating it for breakfast and started feeling guilty about having desert so early in the morning!

Things I don't:

1. Getting hit by a pillow when I walk outside

                This was how a friend of mine described stepping outside in the summer, and it’s very accurate. During July and August, it stays at about 80 degrees F (40 degrees C), but it’s like that EVERY DAY with what must be almost 100% humidity. I usually need two showers each day in the summer, and when I get out of the shower, I usually don’t feel like I’ve completely dry off.