On occasion, while studying a new lesson or having dinner with your new friends, the absurdity of traveling abroad settles on your shoulders; it is complete lunacy. Traveling alone to a foreign country, being solely responsible for yourself, and speaking a second language in almost every conversation is the most insane thing I have ever done. But perhaps even more insane than that is that I have never felt less alone.
To illustrate how incredibly at home I feel in this foreign country, I must first explain what you might expect instead of this immense appreciation for Taiwanese culture and the people that I have. Stepping onto a plane in America, carrying certain expectations about your destination, only to have them utterly shattered immediately upon landing, is a humbling experience. Of the expectations I had of Taiwan, none of them could have prepared me for the sheer volume of people. Before arriving, I did some math to calculate what kind of experience I would have, as far as population density goes, compared to my home life. I started my journey from the BNA airport in the middle of Nashville, TN. Taipei is roughly ⅕ the size of Nashville, yet it has twice as many people. Nashville is not a small city, but upon flying over Taipei, I knew I was in for a wholly new experience. The plane alone blew my mind, let alone walking to the airport. The largest plane I had been on before this trip could not have carried more than 200 people. This plane required a two-story gate at the airport to compensate for the sheer size of it. Even then, the travel day did nothing to prepare me for the next morning when I stepped out into Tamsui.
Immediately, the first thing you notice is the heat. You realize it before you exit the building: assuming you have the AC turned on in your room (a safe assumption, trust me), the humidity will cover you simply stepping out into the hallway. Upon exiting the building, the things you notice happen rapidly, one after the other. Firstly, you hear the sounds. Vehicle engines purring, people speaking in every direction, hot grills sizzling with breakfast, and thousands of sounds tied into the morning hustle and bustle. Next, you smell the intoxicating aroma of Taiwanese breakfast. Whether it is the bakery across the street, the small stores crammed in every corner of Taiwan grilling breakfast, or the fragrant drinks that passersby carry as they pass, you cannot help but be stricken by hunger immediately. On the walk to campus, you truly understand the vastness of 24 million people living in 14,000 sq. miles of land. Mopeds screaming past you at Mach 10, ever so slightly missing you as you walk along a crowded street, bustling with shouting vendors, thousands of people, and smells that make your brain short-circuit.
You might imagine a looming sense of loneliness in such a densely populated place; perhaps the vastness of the country you are a guest in illustrates just how small you are. However, it could not be more the opposite. The community-oriented culture of Taiwan does not allow for isolation, for simply stepping outside your dorm immediately greets you with such an onslaught of people it is impossible not to feel part of something larger than you. Beyond the number, the people themselves are some of the kindest people I have ever met. Taiwanese people, though not always going to understand your Chinese, are always willing to try. And, for a language learner participating in a program such as this, there is no more wonderful gift. When I look outside my window in the morning, I do not see a vastness that I get lost in, but a vastness that I get to join. Something about Taiwan, the people, the culture, the vastness of it all, the tiny role I play in any of it, is alluring. Enticing. Unavoidable and yet thoroughly welcome.
I have never been so far from home. I have never felt so at home.
Fulbright-Hays Fellowship Recipient
Taipei, Taiwan, Summer 2024