I’m finally here. My hellish nightmare spent trapped in a shell of polyester and expanded aluminum is over for now. I don’t know if it’s the lack of sleep, culture shock of being immersed so quickly in new surroundings, or the rush of emotions I’m feeling seeing my dad in his childhood surroundings, but everything right now feels so surreal. The Taipei airport was very shiny. The floors were very polished tile and the multitude of bright lights gave everything a slight sparkle. Customs and luggage retrieval was a breeze and two of my dad’s friends picked us up. It was already dark out so I didn’t get to see much of Taipei, but the distant Taipei 101 skyscraper and the occasional multicolored neon sign gives a small hint at the excitement of city life. Traffic is a mix of cars, both familiar and foreign, and scooters, both driving with a small measure of reckless abandon. At first I was open to the idea of viewing the city from the back of a scooter, but now I worry that I’ll get myself killed attempting it.
The amount of Chinese, in both terms of population and language, is overwhelming. As suspected, I can figure out the gist of most conversations and have attempted a few terse replies, but most of my communication has been confined to smiling and nodding. The friendliness is also overwhelming. Upon the moment of arrival at my Dad’s place, my uncle and an elderly “uncle” Lin were waiting for us with hot tea and food. The fare for tonight was a sticky rice “dumpling” surrounding a green granular substance that had an aftertaste of peanuts. If the rest of my culinary forays are like this one, I’ll have to be more diligent in my exercise to maintain my weight.
My dad’s apartment is actually my Grandmother’s old place. It’s modest by western standards and has a very utilitarian feel to it. Despite that, it’s nicely furnished and comfortable. It consists of 6 rooms, the main entry/living room, a spartan kitchen, three bedrooms, and a bathroom. It’s on the fourth floor of this building situated on a cramped two way street. As I type this, at 0:47, the silence is frequently broken by the sound of a small engine buzzing by below. The temperature is a comfortable mid-60s and the scents are those of a city. On a personal note, it’s difficult to suppress the emotions that swell up when my Dad is overcome by his. My Grandmothers room seems to be much how they left it, complete with a wardrobe full of her clothes, and her old push peddle sewing machine. I can already tell this trip is going to be an emotional rollercoaster.
I think I lucked out and found an open network I can send updates through. I’ll try not to abuse it too much. My GPS finally got a lock, which gives a little comfort knowing where I am. As suspected my cell phone doesn’t have a data connection here, but when I probe for wireless networks, it receives and SMS advertising a pre-paid phone service. As long as I have some kind of a data connection on my laptop, I’ll be happy.
Before I left, 21 days didn’t seem all that unmanageable. Now that I’m here, it’s a little daunting. I’m feeling the beginnings of homesickness, and the heartfelt letter that Tanja snuck in my luggage only serves to make it more powerful. My mom called on the landline here and I could hear my nieces getting ready for a night of trick-or-treating. I suppose those emotions will feel stronger during my times of electronic reflection. I feel like a voyeur, snapping pictures of my surroundings. I still have to explore the line between chronicler and rude tourist.
