Well, okay, mostly Tainan, but a little bit of Kaohsiung too. Plus I’m writing this while on my way to Green Island, a tropical island off the southeast coast which the weather report tells me will be experiencing rain showers all week (charming). So let’s just call it all “Southern Taiwan.”
I was going to write about how Taiwanese hostel culture is different from Western hostel culture, but the more I think about it, the less it seems like there is one. Sure, there’s dramatically less drinking in a Taiwanese hostel, and the lingua franca is Mandarin instead of English. Apart from that, though, the same routine of sightseeing during the day and then socializing in the common areas is basically unchanged.
What did catch me by surprise was how much travel within the country is part of the culture. During their semester breaks or for their gap year, Taiwanese students travel around the country working in hostels in exchange for a place to stay. One that I spoke to mentioned a saying that the three things every Taiwanese should do are 1. Travel around the island, 2. Climb the island’s highest mountain (Yushan), and 3. Visit the surrounding islands (Green Island, Orchid Island, Penghu, and Kinmen).
Canadians don’t have that tradition of travel within the country. Obviously this is largely thanks to the scale of the county and associated insane costs of transportation, but apart from the occasional camping trip, Canadians would rather go to Mexico than the Maritimes. Which is a unfortunate – but then again, I’m on the other side of the Pacific, so maybe I shouldn’t be throwing stones.
As of yesterday I’ve officially been travelling for two months! Yes, I’m burying the lede, but I only just remembered now. I’m less contemplative this anniversary – more settled into it, maybe. Or maybe being back in Taiwan doesn’t feel as much like travelling. I’ve lived here before, after all, I’ll likely come back again in the future, and the country rarely feels as completely unfamiliar as Malaysia sometimes did. It’s one of the reasons I’m looking forward to heading to Japan next month, to capture that feeling again.
In any case, it’s been two months, but I’m still good to keep going for a while yet (that said, the spirit is willing, but is the bank account able? So far so good). Obviously some stuff is fatiguing. I miss having a room to myself, something I’ve only had for two nights over the past two months. And working around a language barrier every day is a chore (though it makes you appreciate those who move to a new country and have to do it every day for the rest of their lives).
Really what it comes down to is that nothing is “easy” on a trip like this. There are few equivalents, if any, to staying at home, ordering a pizza, and watching a movie on Netflix with your inebriant of choice when you’ve had a long day. Finding food takes effort (especially if, like me, you’re picky about finding food that’s local, tasty, and cheap). And the way hostels are set up, you’re either constantly surrounded by people or curling up in a tiny bunk trying to balance your tablet in a way that’s halfway comfortable.
None of this is unbearable – it’s all part of the experience, after all. But sometimes you miss things being easy.
But back to Taiwan. This trip has been the most intensive Taiwanese cultural experience I’ve had in my life – I’ve spent the past three weeks operating almost exclusively in Mandarin, talking mainly to Taiwanese people, eating Taiwanese food and going to Taiwanese places.
Despite that, though, there’s still a profound separation between me and Taiwan. Part of it is that I still haven’t entirely overcome the language barrier, and struggle with people speaking quickly or with certain accents. But even as I get closer to closing the gap, I’m aware that Taiwan will always feel just a little bit alien to me.
This isn’t to say that I feel rejected by Taiwan, or reject my Taiwanese heritage (or that the Taiwanese I’ve met have been anything but welcoming, sometimes absurdly so). It’s just a reflection of the fact that I didn’t grow up in Taiwan. Things the Taiwanese do naturally are things I have to learn or imitate – which takes effort and concentration I don’t need when I’m in Canada.
Put it this way: Being in Taiwan is like swimming, and being in Canada is like being on dry land. I’m becoming a better and better swimmer every time I go, but it still takes work, and there are certain depths I’ll never be able to reach. At the end of the day, it’s easier to be on the shore.
I like Taiwan, a lot. I might even love it. I’m proud of how good I’ve gotten at navigating the language and culture, and I’m grateful that I get to share this heritage. Taiwan still feels more like home than anywhere else in Asia. So this sense that I’ll never truly be Taiwanese is sad, in a way.
But it’s never been a zero-sum game. I can celebrate the level of Taiwanese-ness I’ve reached without mourning what I’ll never be. And the great thing about Canada is that there’s no conflict between being Taiwanese (to whatever degree) and being Canadian. Taiwan will always be a part of my identity, no matter how big, and being able to hop across the ocean and explore it like this is always a privilege.
There’s a whole other essay that could be written about identity from here, but this post has been dragging on, so I’ll wrap it up. I have one week left in Taiwan – by this time next week, I’ll be in Japan (well, on a plane to Japan), which I’m really excited about. So stay tuned.
Harmon Moon 