Prior to transporting my life to Japan, I made a brief sojourn to Taiwan. This visit marked my first time entering and leaving the bastion of Chinese speaking democracy and revolution. And with that trip, My friend’s prediction for 2016 was spot on, I would fall in love with Taiwan and want to move there. Below details my many experiences during those short 8 days.
Meditations and Observations
The Chung Tai Zen Monastery in Puli hosted me for the first leg of my journey. I tried to suspend my expectations before going but many arranged themselves in my head. Highest on my list of expectations was a forthcoming sense of loneliness and quiet. It’s something that hadn’t quite hit me before leaving the states and I figured a quiet retreat would bring it out.
But, I was wrong, as I usually am in life. Instead, I found myself surrounded by connections and following the footsteps of my friend Hernan, who first welcomed me to Chung Tai in Sunnyvale.
My schedule consisted of a short tour of the grounds and the massive Monastery, with it’s 37 floors of meditation halls, statues, Buddhist writings, and some Classically styled Buddhist art depicting key figures or scenes in the Tripitaka. Following the tour and settling in my room, I had two half day retreats over the next two days, a brief discussion on Buddhism in America with the dean of Buddhist teaching, and volunteering.
What did my meditations cover? A pretty wide range of ideas, but nothing terribly moving. I teared up a little bit at the sense of being so connected to my friends, of being so well taken care of, and of wonderment at what the monastics had maintained. I had thoughts about lost loves and romantic passions. I had contemplations about future projects. All the basic stuff. It was just what I needed, but not what I expected.
In between sitting on the two days, I spoke with Master Jian Hu Shifu, whom Hernan has been working with to better train Taiwanese born Shifu (Monks and Nuns that is) for teaching in America. How can they be prepared for the American method of discourse and discussion? And what ideas will American’s struggle with most? I suggested a Bootcamp where Monastics that are more familiar with American mind sets pretend to be American’s in a Buddhist class and test and probe forthcoming teachers. Or as an alternative, a digest of issues any teachers experience so that they can debrief each other and share best practices for getting over the frustrating American frame of mind. Ultimately, Master Jian Hu Shifu wants to bridge the gap between the Taiwanese mindset and the American mindset. To find a middle ground between a Collective mindset and an Individualist mindset.
Hernan setup even more of a path for me, far more than I expected. Following discussion and lunch, I made my way to what I believed to be volunteering, wherein I’d help make soap for the monastics. Instead I met what I deem the Fight Club Monks. Two fellows that Hernan chats with on an almost daily basis and who are far too friendly and welcoming. They also serve as the foundation for the monastery, they make the soap used by everyone for everything. Without them the center would grind to a smelly dirty halt. In them I found welcoming spirits and an idea of Hernan’s regular life among the monastics. I also got a brief lesson on soap making 101, without actually having any way of really helping. I expected to be helpful, in the end i was just an observer of the back bone of the monastery.
By the end of my trip, I followed the lead set forth by Hernan’s ghost. Four recent college graduates came to the monastery for a visit, their first time out of The States. They came with their fellow classmate, who is a Chung Tai Monk. Much as Hernan did, I walked them through how to operate as the monastics do, how to grab breakfast and eat it mindfully, gave a tour of the grounds (which just repeated what I had gotten 32 hours earlier), and tried to make them feel welcome.
The Ghost Town that Violates all my Expectations
Before and After I spent my three days and two nights in Chung Tai Monastery, I spent two evenings in Taichung, the middle city of Taipei. It’s rumored to have 2.6 million citizens and I found close to none of them. It’s also home to the birthplace of Boba, Chun Shui Tang.
My first night there was one of zombie like wandering, searching for reasonable food and a method of paying for transport easily (a card called EasyCard). For some reason I made all the wrong decisions for my first meal there but managed to eat at 7–11 and a ToGo version of 85 Degree bakery. For my first breakfast, rain setup the most impenetrable of barriers, which limited me to a very modest Taiwanese breakfast at a joint run by a daughter and her mom. It tasted good, but probably because I was famish.
My second night in Taichung proved the most baffling. I searched and searched for a massive and crowded night market by food and found nothing. I searched for congregation centers of youth and I found none. I tried to find a nice casual bar to hang out at and found none. For breakfast I even tried to partake in a well known breakfast chain, but they were of course closed for breakfast time. I can imagine this city being great if you’re Taiwanese and know what to find or expect, but as a Foreigner that can’t read, it’s such an everlasting labyrinth with every street appearing the same as the last.
The only saviors to this massive sprawling ghost city were the Fabulous Chun Shui Tang and the savior that is Donutes, a cafe and bakery that satisfied my breakfast desires. Chun Shui Tang provided the milk tea of my life with a lovely step by step mural on the process of making Boba, along with the history of how it happened. Their food is top notch as well. If you’re in Taichung, find these two places, they will save you.
33 Post cards in one day
After the fiasco I encountered in Taichung, I was deeply hoping Taipei would be an improvement. So many friends spoke lovingly of it, but they of course spent critical life moments in Taipei, so they could be heavily biased. But upon first arriving at the main train station and walking to my air bnb, I confirmed all their bias. Either they are right, or I was born with the same bias for loving Taipei.
What can one love about it? Well, I came up with a cute metric for economic development. Its totally made up and probably not a good measure, but I like it. I call it the Cute Dessert Shop and Artisan Shop per capita measure. This is different from Desserts per Capita, which most countries do well at. Instead, this captures the kind of cute cafes high schoolers might go to for dates. A sufficiently developed economy should have a high number of cute dessert shops per capita, indicating that they’re capable of supporting artisan efforts that are non profit making ventures, and that people have free income to spend on such leisurely exependitures. Taipei rules at this measure. As an example, in just one day of exploring two small areas, I bought 33 amazingly cute post cards all drawn by local artists.
These two areas are the Hua Shan Creative Park, located right next to my Airbnb room, and the Red House, located in the Ximen district. Both have really well designed cafes, stores for small galleries and gift shops, and a casual atmosphere for the youth. I walked through as many of the stores as I could and bought at least one or two post cards from each, and wanting to buy so much more, especially stamps, they had really cool stamps. My determination to traveling light was my only savior.
But that’s not all there is to Tapiei. The food and drink of the town are amazing as well. Milk Tea flows through the streets. Speakeasies quietly prop up other businesses. Great food powers the feet of the Taipei Humans. I had not a single bad meal or drink. I could easily spend my life enjoying the consumable delights of Taipei.
But There’s cultural delights too. The National Museum houses ancient wares from China’s older dynasties that were saved before the Cultural Revolution. The Sun Yat-Sen memorial remarks on his life and career as a revolutionary while also housing a number of artist workshops for the public and long with a really cute library. All free of course. Taipei 101 and the surrounding area provides access to the standard luxury goods of the west and gives mark on the one place Taiwan could do better, better foothold for itself in the international brand scene.
I also investigated the hot springs scene briefly in the Beitou district. Built when the Japanese colonized Taiwan, Beitou has a wealth of Japanese styled natural hot springs. One can easily stay in a nice hot spring room for a few hours and soak in the acidic warmth of nature’s water. I tried it and nearly passed out within a few minutes. So I cooled off and proceeded to faint on the floor as my body returned to it’s normal cool state.
Building Trans-Pacific Bridges
As much as I loved the food and other delights in Taipei, it was the people that really warmed my heart. While I expected to find a dreaded sense of loneliness in in Taiwan, I instead felt deeply connected to others and gained a great appreciation for the artists aspirations.
Dora’s good friend Darian took great care of me while in Taipei. He introduced me to a few of his local friends, one gave us a tour of the National Museum and another provided some fun evening drunk entertainment. He also introduced me to the food scene and speakeasy scene. He’s someone I hope to stay in good touch with as he’s a great example of someone that bridges gaps between cultures and networks.
I also ran into two lovely friends from my California past life, Jing Cao and Serena Wu. Jing is forever brave and fierce, boldly making her own path in society and taking whatever advantages come her way. Serena’s done well for herself too, getting a sense of long term drive and purpose while still remaining optimistic and open minded.
Most unexpected was meeting Emily Hsiang for the first time. I typically disprefer using Tinder for dating, but it’s turned out to be really awesome for making friends in foreign lands. Emily is one such example. She’s a former UCLA graduate that’s making local documentaries while also proudly representing her YongKang neighborhood in Taipei. It’s an area rich with history that one can still touch and feel, from Japan’s colonial era. Her wealth of knowledge probably would have been lost upon me had I not swiped right.
My big take away though was the many ways in which we can bridge gaps. Gaps setup by geography that are bridged by post cards. Gaps setup by language that are bridged by language agnostic design or translation. Gaps setup by hunger that are bridged by emotionally driven food. Gaps in experience that are bridged by expressions of art. Gaps in understanding that are bridged by historical display. So as I wandered through the streets of Taipei, I wondered about how we can look at each object or event in our life as a means of bridging some gap. Crossing some barrier. Strengthening some bond that speaks to us.
I will of course be back to Taipei many more times to contemplate this further
