Behind the Headlines

Welcome to my random musings about the world, on a weekly-to-occasional basis.

Where we are: We’re enjoying the last few days of our visit with Toby in Bangkok.

Behind the Headlines

Aren’t you worried about going there right now?

I was more than a little surprised to get that question from my Duke University cardiologist, when I mentioned that we were headed to Taiwan. He’s obviously smart and well-educated, and pays attention to the news.

I’ve been mulling over his question since October, trying to figure out why it shocked me so much. I had zero worries about going to Taiwan. Less than zero—we’ve been waiting for the borders to reopen for two years. We waited and watched and read the news from Taipei and pored over the Covid data and tried to predict the earliest we’d be able to get in. We called it pretty well, too—the ticket we gambled on got us there about ten days after they lifted the travel restrictions.

Seriously—I was so excited to go to Taiwan.

I realize that Taiwan is in the news a lot—our cardiologist was not the only person to mention this small island’s prominence on the world stage. And I’m not in a position to second-guess the machinations of international diplomacy.

But I am in a position to put a human face on the news, and perhaps bring it to life a little bit. The most important thing I’ve learned as a traveler—which is perhaps the most important thing I’ve learned in my whole life—is that there are always, always real people behind the headlines. Flesh-and-blood humans, with foibles and table manners and musical preferences and family structures and conversational quirks and all manner of unique or not-so-unique characteristics—we are the people who inhabit this little planet.

So to that end, I thought I’d try to balance whatever you’ve read about Taiwan in the news. Forthwith: some things I observed/learned in Taiwan.

It’s pretty much frictionless. Everything works, basically seamlessly, especially in Taipei. The metro is one of the best I’ve ever ridden—clean, efficient, fast, convenient. It was even easy to drag our wheelie bags around by train: the platforms are at the exact same level as the trains and metros, so you never have to lift or drop a bag to board or disembark. That sounds like a trivial thing, but it’s not—I don’t believe I’ve ever seen or more well-constructed transit system.

Wherever you are, there’s pretty much always someone who speaks English and is willing to help. If we stopped on the street to glance at the map, someone inevitably asked if they could help. And if we said it wasn’t necessary, they politely moved on, rather than insisting or trying to sell us something. Life just feels smooth in Taiwan.

It felt incredibly safe, and as far as we could tell, the people were honest and trustworthy. I had no hesitation about asking for help if I needed it (that is definitely not true in every country, as much as I like to bang on about people being fundamentally trustworthy).

Riding escalators was a particular joy. We would exit a train, follow the very clear signage to the escalator, then get in line. People would patiently wait their turn without shoving or being rude or impatient. There was no scrum, no me-first-my-desperate-rush-is-more-important-than-yours entitlement causing a bottleneck and screwing up the system for everyone. Everyone stepped calmly onto the escalator when it was their turn, and stayed perfectly lined up on the right side. Anyone who was in a hurry had a clear space to walk up on the left-hand side. The only person I ever saw cut to the front of the line then stop on the left side of the escalator was … me. Luckily, Taiwanese people are too polite to call me out, and I didn’t do it again.

Coffee shops are jammed on Saturdays, with young people doing schoolwork. They’re there from early till late, individuals poring over textbooks, or groups working on projects and studying together. The education ethic is strong (as is the coffee culture). Don’t even bother trying to get a seat on a Saturday—just get your coffee for takeaway.

There are lots of Christian churches, which surprised me a bit. Surprise = what happens when I have preconceived notions.

Soy is a basic food group. Like, if they have a food pyramid in Taiwan, soybeans are probably the base layer. So much soybean, everywhere all the time. Hot soy milk for breakfast, with fried dough for dipping. Soy milk custards and puddings for dessert. Edamame as a garnish. Tofu noodle salads. Yuba, which is a magical substance made from the skin that forms on hot soy milk (like if you scrape the skin off the top of a pudding, and consider it dinner—better than it sounds, I promise. We once went to a restaurant that specialized in nothing but yuba, but that was another story in another country, for another day.).

I’ve mentioned before that masks were still ubiquitous while we were there. What I didn’t mention was that I stocked up. I bought more than I could carry, actually, because they’re so cute. Like, I’ve been buying disposable masks for 3 years now, and these were by far the cutest I’ve seen anywhere. Flowers, paisley, polka dots, rainbows—I even bought some Beatrix Potter ones. And—get this—they were too big for me. Proper adult-sized masks, with Peter Rabbit hopping across the bridge of my nose. I was in sartorial heaven.

Taiwan is (rightly) famous for its food, but I was mildly concerned about starving to death, because a lot of the food that Taiwan is famous for tends to be pretty meat-centric. I needn’t have worried; there’s plenty of vegetarian food. Whole restaurants full, in fact. As a matter of fact, I found more vegetarian dumplings in Taiwan than in any other country we’ve been to. Is that why I spent our whole month there swearing I was never leaving? Perhaps.

It rains a lot. Because of that rain, it’s very humid. It’s also very green. The island has tall, jagged mountains, Pacific waves crashing against steep cliffs, and at least one gloriously sandy beach. It’s far more beautiful than I would have guessed, mainly because I knew so little about it.

When you go into a restaurant, the cutlery has been placed on a cloth napkin. After a couple of weeks of putting stiffly starched napkins in our laps, we slowly realized that no one else uses that cloth napkin. It stays on the table, a place to put your spoon and chopsticks so that they’re not on the table. Everyone uses the paper napkins from the dispenser on the table for protecting their laps and wiping their mouths.

We saw the last few days of campaign season, followed by election day, while we were on our road trip. In the rural parts of the country, a lot of indigenous people stand for election; it was interesting seeing their traditional clothing on billboards and signs and in parades (so many parades!). It was also interesting trying to interpret the symbology of things like color choices, poses, hand gestures, etc. I suppose every culture has its own campaign ‘codes’ that are more or less difficult for an outsider to interpret.

The garbage trucks in Taipei play music, sort of like an ice cream truck in the US (exactly like, actually—the garbage trucks literally sound like ice cream trucks). Apparently the rule in Taipei is that your household garbage is not allowed to touch the ground at any point. You (or your maid) are required to put it directly into the hands of the garbage collector. The garbage truck drives through each neighborhood repeatedly on the designated day, playing that tinny ice cream truck tune, so that everyone has a chance to run out with their bag of rubbish. This has two excellent effects: people are motivated to produce much less garbage, and Taipei is possibly the cleanest city I’ve ever been in.

So when you hear about Taiwan in the news, just remember that they have the best escalator etiquette in the world, and their garbage trucks play ice cream tunes. And there’s nothing worrisome about that.

Take care,

Lisa

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