Wintering in the Tropics: A reflection on my trip to Taiwan

In December, I packed up my hiking backpack and set off for a week of traveling around Taiwan with a friend who was studying there. We went from the north of Taiwan to the south, stopping in Jinshan, Dharma Drum, Taipei and Kaosiung. Besides some of the more traditional tourist locations such as museums and temples, we also made a point to do a lot of hiking and simply go wherever looked interesting. In this manner we were able to travel relatively stress-free, and have an enjoyable time traveling around the country. A good chunk of my stories and interesting sights are told through my pictures on facebook, so I will only detail a few here as well as the experience that left the largest impression upon me.

Firstly, let me just say that in Taiwan there was an abundance of friendly and hospitable people. Everywhere we went this was the case: even when I spoke a few words in (poorly accented) Chinese, they always responded positively. I have never met so many people who were all so agreeable and good natured as those that I met on this trip. My Japanese coworkers insisted that the Taiwanese are very nice and friendly people, which I happily found verified throughout the duration of my trip.

The first big shock upon arriving was how colorful Taiwan is! It seems that everywhere we went there was a plethora of bright reds, oranges, blues, greens, and gold. The traditional local religious shrines (the equivalent of Japanese Shintoism) were by far some of the most brilliantly decorated and colored monuments that I have seen in my life. It was refreshing to see so much color everywhere, yet I found it so striking that I couldn`t stop gaping at the sheer intensity of it

Another shock was the number of scooters. If scooters were cats, there would be an almost 1:2 ratio of cats to people. Scooters zoomed haphazardly around each other in the streets, alleys, and back roads. They lined the pavement in makeshift parking spots, and were the major form of road-blocks. Rush hour was the time when scooters would dwarf cars by sheer numbers. Even coming from Japan where scooters and bicycles are frequently used, it was still a new sight to see these hordes of scooters at every turn.

One curiosity that I encountered everywhere we traveled was the size and magnitude of funeral mausoleums. It seemed that the mountainsides were filled with these mausoleums that were the size of a small or medium shed. In Japan they have funeral altars, but they are very different from these. Whereas in Japan the altars tend to be simple, and made of polished stone all of the same grey color, these mausoleums were large, brightly colored and ornately decorated. For me it seemed lavish and extravagant, but that is the way of these mausoleums. Each culture respects their dead in their own special way; it was very interesting to note the way in which Taiwan marks their dead, and pays tribute to them.

As for Taiwanese food- Incredible! I feel like there was so much more variety than available in Japanese cuisine, and was happy to eat anything and everything put in front of me. This resulted in me eating various forms of blood (blood cake and blood jelly), tendons, chicken feet, stinky tofu, thousand year egg, and dragon fruit (which is deep purple in color and unexplainably delicious) amongst others. Food is one the best parts of travel and living in my opinion. Cultures and individuals have unique ways of preparing food, making each bite is a new experience. If it looks good (or sometimes even if it doesn`t), I say go for it! Life`s too short in my eyes to be squeamish. And who knows? You may just enjoy it, like I did!

This is the end of the sampling of my reflections on the trip. I will leave this recollection of Taiwan with a tale about the place and experiences that touched me the deepest.


Early on in our trip we dedicated a day to visiting the Buddhist monastery/college that my friend attended on Dharma Drum Mountain, north Taiwan. Dharma Drum is a mountain full of lush forests and babbling brooks, tiny back roads and gorgeous hiking trails. The monastery and college are one and the same, with the students being composed of monks, nuns and regular students. The grounds are designed in Buddhist tradition, meaning that everything, while large and impressive, was built using simple designs, leaving plenty of spaces for large or small meditation halls, prayer halls where you could pray to a Buddha or Buddhisatva, and many smaller sitting areas. The monastery and its surrounding expansive grounds are specifically designed to have many paths for walking/meditating, which I took great pleasure in walking through at a leisurely pace.

Master Sheng Yen, the creator of Dharma Drum, intentionally designed the grounds and monastery so that the sound of running water is heard at all times. Here you would see a brook, another time a small fountain, over there a large rain wall, and even when you weren`t in sight of the source, various sounds of running and dripping water could be heard in the background. I found the beauty of it all absolutely awe-inspiring. The gentle silence and communication through smiles and hand signals that I used with the monks and nuns since we did not share a common language was spell-binding when mixed with the gorgeous and serene atmosphere. I was so touched by the gentle kindness of it all that words escaped me, and for most of the day I walked in a reverie.

  One of my favorite memories of the whole day, perhaps the whole trip, was the lunch we ate at the monastery. Meals are provided daily to anyone who is there. This includes visitors and students alike. Everyone eats a communal meal that is prepared by the monks and nuns, and sit together in the eating hall that is separated by sex. Before the meal, I had asked and received confirmation that meals were held in silence. I entered the hall, waited in line, served myself some food, and (as I looked confusedly around) was noticed by a lady who directed me to where the women were sitting. All that could be heard was the clanking, sometimes scraping, of our metal silverware and chopsticks against our metal bowls, the sounds of chewing and swallowing, scraping chairs as people stood or sat, and the muted footsteps made by people getting food or nuns carrying/adding trays.

I ate in silence; then, finding that taking seconds was a common practice for all, I did so. I had seen people eating a deep purple food, and was curious to find out what it was and try it. Having succeeded in finding it, I sat down again with my bowl of sliced purple… something. Bringing it to my lips, I was delighted to find out that it was a soft, fleshy fruit with small, strawberry like seeds. Later, I was to find out that this delicious fruit that I had a second bowl of is called dragon fruit. I continued eating in silence, relishing the simplicity and deliciousness of the meal.

After finishing, I arose and walked over to put my chopsticks and bowl away, only to discover that I had not the foggiest idea where to put them! Silently, I approached a nun who, upon seeing my questioning eyes and dirty empty bowl, broke into a huge, cherubim smile and showed me through a gentle sweep of her arm where to take it. Thanking her with a returned smile, I put my bowl and chopsticks away and left the hall to find my friend. This meal sticks in my mind and impressed upon me so deeply because of the simplicity of it all, the kindness and generosity in which it was prepared, and the sweet, innocent open smiles in the eyes and faces of all whom I approached. There is something so magical and powerful about silent communication and it's ability to bring people together across all types of barriers. This is but one of my experiences in Taiwan- yet, I think it was one of the most special for me.

There was much about Taiwan that I found interesting and wonderful. The night markets, hikes, and people were wonderful to see and meet. I met amazing people along the way through couch surfing, and was able to enjoy the simple pleasures of traveling with nothing but a backpack, a friend, open minds and open plans. Though this was my first time to Taiwan, I hope it will not be my last. Looking out the window of the plane, I said a fond “see you later” to my friend and Taiwan.

New Ways to Start a New Year

        I often find myself amazed at the way time moves. It’s been five months since I arrived in Japan, yet it feels simultaneously shorter and longer since I left America. Everything since July has been a whirlwind of events. Between finding an apartment, figuring out my work schedule, learning how to do my job, exploring my area, getting more familiar with how to do daily activities, learning and navigating around the language, going to festivals and social events, meeting new people, and simply trying to figure out how to set up my entire life here, it has been a crazy couple of months. Every day has been full of learning experiences, which have helped me to grow and better understand the area I live in. That being said, I’m glad the whirlwind is slowing down!

       In light of the timing of this update, I thought that I would talk about the New Year. This holiday week was spent in a way I’ve never spent it before. For once, New Years took precedence over Christmas, and I spent the time leading up to the new year, and the day of, celebrating in new and interesting ways. This is an account of the day before New Years Eve, New Years Eve, and New Years day.

       My first step towards celebrating the new year was by going with a friend and their family to make mochi (お持ち付け) two days before. Mochi is the product of pounded rice. To make mochi you use special rice that is high in gluten, which makes it easier shape into a sticky, taffy-like substance. The night before you make mochi, you need soak the rice in water. The next day, you steam it. After that, you take the steaming hot mass of heavy white rice and put it into a large mortar. Using what look like giant wooden pegs with long handles (which I will call “hammers”), you then push the rice until it starts to stick together. All the while, someone adds water (a little at a time) to the mixture to help it stick together, and not stick to the mortar or the wooden pegs. Once the rice has started to stick together, the fun really begins. Someone takes one of the huge wooden hammers and starts to pound the mochi in large, strong blows. In between the blows, someone else moves the mochi batter around, splashes water on it, pulls and tugs at it, and tries to keep it from sticking to the mortar. Mind you, this batter is piping hot, so they have to work quickly. The process of pounding and moving the batter soon becomes a steady rhythm, with each person giving a grunt as they finish to signal the other to go.

       People will take turns in each station, and little kids in particular have fun pounding the mochi; though, it should be mentioned, they are given significantly smaller hammers and only hit a few times as opposed to the large number of repetitions the adults do. Pounding mochi is hard work: between the hammering and moving around the extremely hot batter, it can be quite exhausting. After the mochi batter has been pounded to the right consistency of dough, it is moved out of the mortar and into a wooden tray that has been pre-floured with mochi flour. People gather around then to help tear off chunks of the dough and shape it into mochi balls of various sizes. There is the general size of mochi, which is about the size of one’s palm, and then there is the mochi used for the family altar. It is traditional to put stacks of three mochi (a small, medium and large mochi) in front of the ancestor’s altar in the home during New Years. While making mochi you can add a variety of ingredients. We chose to make some with red bean paste in the middle, and roll others in roasted soybean powder. The most commonly made mochi were simply plain mochi. We even made a batch of brown rice mochi! This is not entirely common to make, partially because it takes about twice as long to pound the brown rice due to how hard it is. The flavor is very different from regular white rice mochi. Since you can’t pound all the grains into a flat mixture, it’s a lot lumpier, and has a meatier taste to it- kind of like brown rice!

       One of the best parts of making mochi from scratch is eating the hot, fresh mochi right away. Even better than that is if someone brings a daikon (white radish) and soy sauce. You grate the daikon into a bowl, add the soy sauce, dip the hot mochi in it and mwah- heaven. It’s spicy, salty, and just a little sweet. I think I ate my weight in daikon-dipped mochi.

       By the end of the morning I was covered in mochi flour, and had sticky mochi all over my hands. There were about five families there with their kids running around, and throughout the morning I was constantly being pulled by them to go and play. At one point one of the boys brought a long string of mochi up to me and, thrusting it in my face, yelled, “蛇！(Snake!)” I gasped in mock surprise, then pulled out my necklace (which has a snake on it), and showed him my snake. Poor thing! I think I ruined his fun because he looked so disappointed that I wasn’t scared… I made it up by acting alarmed when he said it had bit him. All was well after that, and the shenanigans continued.

       After we finished, we had a lovely meal with our hosts filled with curry, fried chicken, rice and different salads. All of the families sat down to eat and talk while the kids ran around, jumping in and out of people’s laps, laughing and munching on pieces of chicken and mochi. It was a really wonderful, warm way to end a day of working together: a shared meal where we all relaxed, talked, laughed and ate. The feeling of the atmosphere was very casual, and familial. It was a wonderful way to end our time of mochi making together. We all parted ways after the meal with our huge bags of mochi, expressing our thanks and bowing repeatedly while promising to see each other next year.

       When I am in America, I usually spent New Years Eve playing games with friends and family, cooking, watching movies and hanging out. My New Years Eve in Japan this year was very different. My friend Yellie and I set up a nabe pot (a heated pot) on her kotatsu (a heated table) in front of the TV, and sat for a few hours making nabe and watching kohaku. Kohaku is basically the Japanese equivalent of the Times Square New Years Eve special. It is a four-hour review of popular music and musicians in Japan over the past year.  Old classic songs in the style of “enka” are also sung intermittently throughout the program. Watching kohaku is one of the most popular ways to spend New Years Eve in my area. So in this spirit, Yellie and I sat at the heated table for a couple hours and watched musical performances while boiling vegetables and meat in the nabe pot, eating them and drinking tea.

       Thirty minutes before midnight we ended our nabe and music party to participate in another Japanese tradition: going to Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines at midnight. People go to the shrines to ring in the new year, ring the bells, drink hot amezake (thin rice porridge) and zenzai (red bean soup), and pray for a blessed new year. The Buddhist temples ring the bells a hundred and eight times, I believe, one for each of the sins in Buddhism, so as to dispel them.  It is believed that ringing the bells will cleanse them of their sins during the previous year. This time of year is also the only time that some of the Buddhist temples that are not generally open to the public open their doors to everyone. Not wanting to miss out on this opportunity to see these temples and experience, Yellie and I bundled up and set off into the cold night air.

       Walking about the mostly deserted streets of my town, hearing the gong of the bells resonating through the still brisk air, with the light from the lamps casting a surreal haze upon the darkness, was a spectacular feeling. The night air chilled my cheeks and ears, but I barely noticed. As we walked past open temple and shrine doors, we could see the figures of monks in the doorways and enclosures- shadowed and partially illuminated by the orange hue of the fires they were burning. There is something so bewitching about walking through the roads lined with traditional Japanese houses, catching glimpses behind the typically closed temple doors, and hearing the ringing of the bells in the stillness of the night. I walked in a daze of quiet awe and enchantment.

       As we got closer to the temple we were headed to, more people started showing up on the roads. Once at the temple, Yellie and I walked around, drank some amezake, watched people ring the bell and talked with some of the monks and our students. Since we live in such a small town, we saw a good number of our students, and surprised them with some impromptu “English time.” From there we went to a shrine, walked around there a little bit, then headed home to grab a few hours of sleep before…

       New Years Day! What do the Japanese do on the first day of the New Year? Sleep? No! They go and watch the first sunrise of the New Year and make a wish. People go to a variety of famous and favorite places to watch the first sunrise. This year I was invited to join the third year students and teachers at one of my high schools in watching the first sunrise together from the roof of our school. This meant that at six o’clock, five hours after going to sleep, I rolled out of bed, into warm clothes, and headed to school: fully prepared to freeze in solidarity with my students and coworkers as we waited for the sun to come up. And so we did! All of us were huddled on the roof: my students in their school uniforms freezing, the teachers in their coats freezing, and all of us waiting for the sun to appear over the mountain.

       Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of time spent teasing each other, talking, joking and shivering, the sun rose up over the mountain- and behind a cloud. “Does that count?” I asked in a mixture of confusion and hope. Seeing that no one was moving, I assumed it didn’t. With baited breath, and many jokes with the students about moving the clouds, we waited until the sun finally peaked out from behind the cloud. Huzzah! Everyone pressed their hands together in prayer, asking for blessings for the new year (my students specifically asking to pass the college entrance exams). Then in a flash, we all hurried inside, down the stairs and out to another shrine where all the students waited in line to ring the bell and repeat their prayers. Finally they finished praying, and we all returned to school where we prepared lunch together. Sleepy and cold but excited, the teachers and students cooked huge batches of soup, zenzai, sushi, and rice balls together for a few hours in a fun bonding and sharing time. I was happy to cook with my students and coworkers, as well as meet some of their parents. In my group we even played a game where the students taught me Japanese words and I taught them the English ones; the mothers got so excited, they started practicing as well! In the end, I think the mothers were having so much fun they ended up practicing more English than my students. After eating together, the third years who had not passed their college exams yet went to study, and I went home to sleep.

       Taking into account all the events of the past few days, I have had an amazing and memorable first new year in Japan. The experiences were incredible, but they would be nothing without the warmth and friendliness of the people around me. It was a new years of new experiences, enka music, surreal sights, meeting new people and bonding with my community.

       This is the start of my 2014 year in Japan: may the light of this first sunrise shine upon a year full of new experiences, lessons, and growth for us all.