The Story of a Beach and a Market

            It never ceases to amaze me how suddenly the world goes quiet here. One minute, I’m walking in downtown Hualien, scooters whipping past me so close I can feel the heat off their exhaust pipes, shopkeepers hosing down their storefronts, cars honking and breaking at stoplights. The next, the city is behind me and I’m completely alone on the beach, listening to the sound of the waves.

            That’s not to say the Taiwanese don’t appreciate their natural environment. Their complicated recycling system, based upon everyone taking personal responsibility to sort their recyclables into upwards of ten categories, puts America to shame. The beaches themselves are virtually free of litter. Taiwanese people just know better than to go out in the scorching midday sun, unlike this sweaty American.

            After a long week of teaching workshops, I enjoyed watching the waves (like a true Midwesterner, I can never get over the size and the beauty of the ocean) and sitting and reading by the shore. Afterwards, I reentered the chaos and excitement of the city and immediately ended up by accident in a wet market (“wet” markets sell impeccably fresh meat, fish, and fruit from small local vendors). With a few words of Mandarin and a lot of hand gestures, I purchased a guava and some moon cakes. I met a market stall owner who was studying a textbook on International Business English. We had a short but excited conversation, him happy to find a native speaker to practice with and me happy to find a Hualien local who speaks my language. I promised to come back next week so that we could speak again. I hope that as I begin taking Chinese classes in September, I too can practice my Mandarin in the market.

            The market is loud, with shoppers milling about and haggling with the vendors, and with the smells of everything from freshly butchered chickens to potted orchids. I love the sensory overload just as much as I love the peace of the beach. I have a lot more to explore of both, just as I have a lot more to explore of Taiwan.

The Story of a Memorial

            I’m back in Hualien (the city I’ll be living and teaching in for the next 10 months) after three days in Taipei. Orientation with all the Taiwan ETAs took up the first two days, so I was excited to go sightseeing on my own on the third day.

View of Liberty Square from the Memorial Hall

            This was my first time in Taipei, so I knew I wanted to go see the iconic Liberty Square and Chiang Kai Shek Memorial Hall. That morning, I took the MRT (mass rapid transit) from my hostel right to the Square. Liberty Square is a gigantic open plaza made up of white tile. A massive, five arch, blue and white gate watches over the plaza, with the National Theater and the National Concert Hall flanking it to the left and to the right. Completed in the late 1970s, the square served as a key gathering place for protests during Taiwan’s transition for martial law to progressive democracy in the 1990s. On that morning, tourists populated the sunny square, taking photos and walking up the steps to the Chiang Kai Memorial Hall.

1. The Main Gate of Liberty Square, 2. The CKS Memorial Hall from the Plaza

            Inside the Hall, a massive seated bronze statue of Chiang Kai Shek smiles upon the visitors who wait behind velvet ropes. I squeezed in behind three layers of people taking pictures. Two armed guards in full military uniform stand on either side of the statue. Every hour on the hour, the guards swap out in an elaborate procession. The ceremony, combined with the presence of the gigantic bronze statue within the massive hall, reflects Chiang Kai Shek’s looming figure in Taiwanese history. In 1950, due to the Chinese Civil War, Chiang fled from mainland China to Taiwan and maintained the seat of the Chinese Nationalist Government in Taipei with the intent to retake mainland China. Dying in 1975, Chiang never realized his ambition to defeat the Communist government of mainland China and tensions between Taiwan and China continue to influence global politics today. Chiang established the martial law which reigned in Taiwan until the 1990s.

Statue of Chiang Kai Shek

            After viewing the statue, I sat down on the steps of the National Theater to enjoy a small breakfast purchased at 7-11 (By the way, there is a 7-11 on pretty much every corner in Taiwan). I looked out at the people moving about on the plaza. Before me, a high school marching band played a rendition of Katy Perry’s “Firework.” Behind me, local teenagers practiced choreographed dances to Mando Pop in the shade of the theater. A young couple held the hands of their daughter as they helped her down the steps. The whole scene reminded me that on top of the foundation of a country’s history, stands a people, every day, living.

The National Theater

The Story of a Meal

So much has happened since I landed in Taiwan less than a week ago, too much to recount all at once or else you’ll feel as overwhelmed as I do. But quickly, here’s what I’ve done, in summation: landed in Taipei, flew to Hualien City, got my ARC (Taiwanese Green Card), opened a Taiwanese bank account, attended teaching workshop, went to the beach, saw a native tribal dance performance, and took a hike. To keep it simple, I’m going to tell you one story from my trip so far: the story of a meal.

Ordering food in Taiwan is always an adventure. I don’t speak Mandarin yet and menus are all in traditional Chinese characters, so to order food, I’ve mainly been pointing to things and hoping for the best. So far, I’ve accidently ordered a breakfast hash brown and a vegetarian hot pot. Even accidents in Taiwan are delicious.

The accidental hot pot, complete with a mini stove.             

The most unexpected, most unique meal of my life happened last night. The former high school host family of one of the other ETAs (English Teaching Assistants) offered to take our whole group out to dinner. They said they were taking us to a world-famous Hualien restaurant, so I expected typical Taiwanese cuisine, with some form of noodles, rice, and soup. Then, the waiter brought out the first course of algae, some mysterious fruit, and the skin of a wild boar.

Left to Right: Algae, Fruit, Skin of Wild Boar

It turns out, we were in a restaurant that specializes in the traditional cuisine of Hualien’s aboriginal culture. What followed was a multicourse meal of pig belly, snail, fish, wild hen, veggie patty, and barnacles, all unique and delicious. The restaurant prepared the skin of the wild hen sweet and crispy. The snails tasted like how the ocean smells. The barnacles (who would have thought one could eat barnacles?) tasted of the salty soup they were soaked in and beneath the hard shells, the meat was soft.

 

Left to Right: Fried Wild Hen, Sea Snail

Our waiter joked with us throughout the meal. “Better than McDonalds?” He asked us with a smile as we ate. He teased me for finishing my portion of rice before the third course (I just really like rice, okay?). Afterwards, the dad of the host family gave us a ride to Hualien’s cultural center, where we were going to watch a traditional native dance performance. We thanked the dad for planning such an incredible meal. He said no problem. He knows some people choose to take Westerners out to Western restaurants when showing them around a new country. But his family wanted to take us some place special. And special it was.

Left to Right: Barnacles in Soup, Cracked-Open Barnacle