This guest post was written by Stephanie A Long.

Apart from a few dolphins that had been keeping pace, the only thing to see since we had passed Green Island was blue meeting blue on the distant horizon. The sunlight’s warmth and the deck chair’s swaying and rocking had made my eyelids heavy.

I hadn’t realized that I’d drifted to sleep, though, or that the 4 hour journey could already be nearly over. And so, when a light touch to the shoulder woke me, it seemed to me that the wild, jungle-covered cliffs filling the world off to port had magically burst up out of the calm waters.

Orchid Island, also called Lanyu, had been on my travel list for nearly 2 years—and finally, I was there!

This volcanic island, with its turquoise waters and unique native culture, might not be as popular a tourist destination as the much closer Green Island, but that isn’t because it lacks anything in beauty or culture. Because of its remoteness—the island lies about 73 miles off the south-east coast of Taiwan—and the relative difficulty of traveling there, fewer people are able to make the trip. If you do brave the little planes or the ferry ride, though, the trip is well worth it!

Soon after climbing down from the boat, we were met by a driver who brought us back to a local home, partially converted into a hostel. Within an hour, we had our rental scooter, a full tank of gas, and an evening to drive, climb around on the volcanic rock, and explore.

A single coastal road wraps around the island, and it only takes 2-3 hours to circumnavigate this small island. You can take your time to stop and admire the dramatic rock formations along the road, and just enjoy the ride between the deep turquoise waters on one side and the dense, wild mountains on the other.

When it came time for a meal, there wasn’t any shortage of delicious things to eat. If you are looking for a quick snack or drink, there are numerous small, independently owned convenience stores along the island’s main road. You may have to drive 10 to 15 minutes to find a snack or a coffee, but that’s all part of the laid-back island adventure. There aren’t any 7-11s on this island, and that’s part of the charm.

There are a few western-style restaurants and bars overlooking the ocean, and plenty of small restaurants serving local food. Make sure to give the island’s specialty, flying fish, a try while you are there!

The stunning, deep blue waters that surround the island are home to some beautiful coral reefs, and Orchid Island has a reputation as being a great place for snorkeling. For only 400NT per person, we rented wetsuits and snorkels, and had a guide from the local village. Drifting above and through the beautiful world of coral reefs that lies just off the coast is the perfect way to spend a few hours here.

For travelers who like trekking, the climb to Orchid Island’s Taling mountain is popular, and offers great views. The weather station, which is just a short drive up the cross-island road. Although there’s nothing particularly spectacular about the weather station itself, the views along the drive, and once you’ve reached the top, are amazing.

One of the biggest draws to Orchid Island, though, is the chance to see its unique culture. This island is home to the Yami people. Culturally distinct from the rest of Taiwan, the Yami have traditions and customs that more closely resemble those of people in the Philippines.

On your trip around the island, make sure to check out the Lanyu museum, which shows a replica of a traditional Yami underground home, as well as tons of traditional crafts, tools, and art.

 Be sure to also keep an eye out for the beautifully painted, hand-made canoes.  Outside of the museum, the gate from the main road is made up to look like two of these canoes.

After an all-too short weekend there, Orchid Island ranks high on my list of favorite places in Taiwan.  It has beautiful oceans, wild mountains, and a laid-back feel that makes it the perfect place to relax and get away from it all.

Travel Tips

•  From the coastal city of Taitung, flights and ferries leave for Orchid Island daily, weather permitting. The flights are run by Daily Air, and cost about $3,000NT round trip. Ferries are only slightly cheaper, at $2,000NT round trip.
•  Bad weather often leaves flights grounded and ferries stuck in the harbor. Be aware that you may be stuck on the island for a day or two more than you had planned, and prepare accordingly. Even when the ferries do run, trip can be quite an adventure. We had calm seas on the way there, but ended up catching the edge of a Typhoon on the way back! I’d recommend the ferry only for people with a strong sense of adventure, and an even stronger stomach.
• Ferries and flights fill up early, especially during holidays. Trains and flights to Taitung are often sold out as well. Book your transportation to Taitung, and to Orchid island, well in advance.
• Not many people on the island speak English. You may have some trouble communicating and booking things if you don’t have someone with you who can speak at least some Mandarin Chinese.
• Renting a scooter is the best way to get around the island. Since the road is windy and often steep, having someone with you who knows how to drive a scooter is a must.

This guest blog is by Ava Apollo.

In the Xin Yi district of Taipei, home to the famous 101 skyscaper, immaculate residential mid-rises owned by the powerful and rich Taipei elite sit quietly amidst the buzz of one of the busiest intersections in the city. At any given time, one can catch a glimpse of young adult females in the windows of these flats and penthouses, cleaning and then re-cleaning windows, walking dogs, rearing children of their employers, cooking and serving food, and generally leading the life of an indentured servant.

It is rare to see a housekeeper taking a walk, or out relaxing and enjoying the day.  Even rarer still is it to see one doing anything but working within the confines of the household in which she is employed.

Xin Yi

In late November of this year, multiple news outlets reported the charging of Taiwanese director-general of the Taipei Economic and Cultural Office in Kansas City, Jacqueline Liu (劉姍姍), for the mistreatment of her Filipina housekeepers.  She reportedly plead guilty to charges of overworking, underpaying, and mistreating her housekeepers, which was in violation of their employment contracts.

Liu was forced to pay said housekeepers over USD$80,000 in restitution for forcing them to work 16-18-hour days 6 ½ days per week.  The housekeepers were found to have been victims of what is considered a severe human trafficking case under the Trafficking Victims Protection Act.  They will be issued visas and allowed to remain in the U.S. for the purpose of finding work.  As for Lui, she will be detained in prison until her sentencing, though she maintains that she does not feel she did anything wrong.

As a previous resident of Taipei, I can understand why Lui feels that she acted lawfully – as it pertains to how things are done in Taiwan, at least.  It is a common practice to overwork and underpay migrant house workers, who are usually young women from the Philippines or Indonesia.

Under Taiwanese law, blue collar migrant workers enter into a contract with their employers and cannot freely change employers without being in violation of said contract and thereby risking deportation.  Therefore, migrant workers are under pressure to please their employers, many of whom impose arbitrary pay cuts and require ridiculously long hours of overtime, and often do not give their employees holidays off.

In Hong Kong, it is common to see maids gather on days off. This is something I never saw in Taipei

As a foreigner in Taiwan, it seemed like a pretty special treat to be able to hire a housekeeper to stop by our flat and only charge about $200-$300 NT per hour (about USD$6-$10) for cleaning services (which, by the way, is much much higher than a normal contractual wage in Taipei for a full-time housekeeper).  This was a great deal cheaper than anything I could have found in the states.

Though I never employed a housekeeper myself, I did pay my downstairs neighbor’s housekeeper, Nana, a little bit of extra money to handle garbage duties for me (which is a real pain in Taiwan).

Given that I was usually home when she stopped by, I used to ask her about her day, which eventually turned into talking about her life and her family back home.  She was from Indonesia and had lived in Taipei for nearly five years.  She was married and had come abroad in order to make enough money to return home and build a house with her husband, who worked at a factory in South Korea.  Even though the money she made seemed like peanuts compared to what I made as an English tutor, it was more than she could have hoped to make in a lifetime in Indonesia where she was from.  In order to provide for her family, she felt compelled work in Taiwan, sending every penny of her earnings back home each pay period and never buying anything for herself.

It had been five years since she had seen her husband or any members of her family.  This broke my heart.

Nana’s story is not uncommon in Taipei.  Migrant workers just like her leave their families at home in order to make enough money to provide them with a better life in the future.  Many of these women even leave young children behind, and end up serving as nannies for the children of their employers – something I can imagine must be extremely emotionally difficult.

Amazingly, they almost always smile and appear to be happy

Over time, Nana and I developed some semblance of a friendship.  She confided to me that she had originally been brought to Taiwan by a family other than the one she was currently employed by.  She had fled after being verbally and sometimes physically abused by her former employer.  Though she now worked almost every waking moment, she liked this new employer who allowed her to use her limited free time to make extra money on the side, and gave her small bonuses during the holidays.

However, she lived in fear of deportation nearly every day.  She almost never left the building, save for the rare occasions when she took the risk of leaving the flat in order to wire her earnings back home.

This was a risky situation, as the employer also ran the risk of being fined for employing her as an undocumented worker. I suppose by extension, I was running the same risk by paying her to help with the trash.

She would eventually head home when the time was right.  She would tell the airport officials that she didn’t have the money to pay the fine for overstaying her visa – a crime punishable by being barred from ever returning to Taipei.  This would work out just fine for her, as she had no plans of returning, anyway.

Her situation was such a stark juxtaposition to that of my English-teaching peers, though they were both technically migrant workers.  Both parties had come to Taiwan in hopes of making some cash in order to have a better life. English speakers could make a great living as English teachers, able to get pretty good hourly wages in schools and bushibans (English cram-schools) with the ability to put plenty away for travel and savings.  The funny thing is most of the housekeepers from the Philippines were native English-speakers as well, but would never have been given the chance to teach.  They were simply from the wrong region of the world to have a shot at that opportunity.

When I was getting ready to return home, Nana cried and insisted on helping me pack.  It was an unlikely friendship that really put a face to cheap labor that was so distant from me previously.  It was something I had only read about, but now had seen first-hand for myself.  When it comes down to it, Nana chose to come to Taiwan because she wanted a chance to make money to support her family.  I wonder if she still would have come had she known how difficult it was going to be, which is something I never got a chance to ask her.

I hope she's home now

I hope that now, she’s back with her husband in Indonesia, living in a house she built with her earnings, rearing a family, most likely with local maids of her own.

So, what do you think?  Do there need to be changes to the way that migrant workers are treated, or does the opportunity to make a better life for themselves outweigh the drawbacks? 

This guest post was written by Stephanie Long.

Snow, the weather report said. The faces in the van were a mix of startled excitement, and worry. We hadn’t been expecting snow on the mountain at this time of year, and didn’t have the equipment for it.

Snow Mountain rises to an altitude of 3,886m (12,749ft), making it Taiwan’s second-highest mountain. Well-traveled, popular trails lead to the top, but it’s still a fairly challenging, multi-day trip to reach the peak. For anyone interested in hiking, it’s a destination that can’t be missed.  I had been wanting to climb Snow Mountain since before arriving in Taiwan, and now I was finally on my way there.

As our van weaved its way southward from Taipei towards Shei-Pa National Park, we wondered: Would we go all the way to Snow Mountain only to have to turn back before reaching the peak?

We reached Wuling farm, at the base of Snow Mountain, around dusk. It was a short hike to the first cabin, Qika. With the moon nearly full, we soon realized that our headlamps and flashlights were actually more of a hindrance than a help. Within an hour, we’d made our way through the eerily beautiful, moonlit forest, and were settling in for the night.

The next day’s hike took us from Qika cabin to the East Peak, and finally, to 369 cabin.  With our heavy packs and all of our food, it made for an exhausting day!  From the East Peak, we could see 369 cabin, and the snow  up on the main peak.

This guest blog is by Ava Apollo.

I had full blown reverse culture shock when I moved home from Taipei.  I’m talking sleepless nights, forgetfulness as to how to operate a vehicle, the feeling that nobody cared I was back, the whole shebang.

Yes, I just said “shebang”.

The only thing is, I had no idea what reverse culture shock even was before returning home.  Why would it be odd for me to return to the place I grew up, definitely understood the culture, and already had a built-in network of friends and family?

When moving abroad, one naturally worries about culture shock.  It’s obvious to think about the task of acclimating when arriving in a new country, especially if you’re like me and decided to move to said new country having never visited it.  It’s like learning a whole new way of living life.

I thought the first few days in Taipei were among the most taxing of my life at the time.  I was on a 24/7 translation bender, which is surprisingly exhausting.  I even spent a full hour in the grocery store my first time in (Wellcome market in Taipei, at the end of Wen-Zhou street where I lived) and emerged with only 3 items: ramen noodles, dumplings, and merlot (wine is universal, my friends).

I’ll be honest. I broke down and cried a few times the first few weeks.  I felt overwhelmed.

Can I just hide today?

I didn’t set out on the journey expecting that any leg of it would be easy.  I didn’t want it to be easy, either.  The rewarding things in life seldom are.  I figured once I got used to Taipei, I had made it through the toughest part.

But why did nobody warn me about reverse culture shock?

When I moved back home, it seemed as though nobody really, oh I don’t know, cared.   I half-expected my friends to drop everything to see me like they did before I left, but it didn’t go that way.  I learned a painful lesson back then, that I would have learned eventually anyway, about who was really a friend, and who was nothing more than an acquaintance.

My real friends would be curious about the adventure, they’d ask how the “trip” was, and then slip into a comatose state five minutes into my story. They weren’t really interested in the details.

I felt like everything was so different.

Home?

The oddest thing about all of this is that nothing back home really changed much while I was away.  Everything carried on just the way it did back when I was still a part of it.   It seemed so wildly different and difficult to me because it was I who had transformed.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but the moment I moved abroad was a turning point in my life.  It was an event in which I was one person going in, and a completely changed person coming out.   My old life ended the moment I stepped on that plane leaving LAX, and my new life began the moment I stepped off of it and into the sticky Taipei evening.

Even now, thought it’s been over three years since I left Taipei, sometimes triggers make me yearn for that life.  Every time I get in my car and someone cuts me off and we show our mutual displeasure by flipping the bird, I think to myself, people were nicer in Taipei. Every time Lunar New Year rolls around, I think about the lantern festival, and I deeply miss my night-time walks, which I can’t safely take around here – I miss living somewhere safe.  I also miss going to the doctor and paying only $12, without insurance, to see her.  I miss the truly amazing food, and the unique mixture of East and West.  Heck, I even miss the honest people who returned my lost iPhone to me (before it had even been released in Asia) after I accidentally left it at 7-11.   Gosh, that would NEVER (ever, ever, ever!) happen here.

Don’t get me wrong, Southern California is amazing, as evidenced by the amount of people who live and vacation here.  Moving home had its perks.  For the first time in 8 months, I was able to walk into a store and speak English, and be fully understood.   I was finally back with my family, whom I had missed.  I was able to buy all of the food and beauty products that I had been missing,  there were no longer mosquitoes torturing me, and the weather was truly a significant improvement.

Home, sweet home?

But, if I’m honest, I yearn to take off and move abroad again almost every day.  I ask myself if the grass is just always going to be greener somewhere I’m not.  This could certainly be the problem.  Either way, I’ve been struck with wanderlust and I can’t shake it.  There’s something so beautiful about being somewhere completely new, where nobody knows you and yesterday and tomorrow don’t matter.

I wish there was a way to travel the world and still put something away into a 401k.  So, for now, the nagging need to be financially secure has kept me sedentary.

But you know what? Writing about it always makes me feel better and reminds me of the best times I had over there.  Visiting old friends I met abroad and reminiscing about our time together takes me back in such a deliciously giddy way.   We always ask each other, will you go back?  Some of us have, and some of us only flirt with the idea.   Either way, we’ve all been changed.

What about you??

Today’s guest blog is written by Ava Apollo – a lover of travel and previous resident of Taipei, Taiwan.

Have you ever found yourself taking a drive down a roadside in Taiwan, when out of the corner of your eye you catch a scantily-clad la mei (“hot” girl) working behind glass walls? Whether you have or not, I bet now you’re intrigued.

Now I bet you're definitely intrigued

I was on a bus heading out of Taipei a few years ago, staring out the window as I always do on long journeys, and felt completely shocked when I saw a pretty girl, on a random roadside, wearing lingerie and sitting in a little class cube. What in the wooorrllld is she doing there? I wondered.

My friends told me she was a bin lang xi shi (檳榔西施), or betel nut girl.

Okay, so what is a betel nut and why is a lingerie model selling it?

First thing’s first: A “betel” nut, is actually an Acreca nut – the seed of an Acreca palm tree – wrapped in betel leaves. It is common in Asia to chew it – a practice that dates back thousands of years. When the nut and the leaves are combined, the byproduct is psychoactive drug (some say the effect is much like cigarette smoking) that can be further increased by the addition of tobacco. Unfortunately, like chewing tobacco, long-term chewing of betel nuts leads to cancer of the mouth, and has even been linked to type 2 diabetes, along with many other diseases.

You can be pretty certain someone is chewing betel nut if his/her mouth appears red, and his/her spit looks like blood.

It’s a little freaky.

Now that we have that out of the way, let’s talk about the beauties:

They come in a shiny little box

While betel nut is enjoyed throughout Asia, betel nut beauties are unique to Taiwan. They typically set up shop in rather small (typically 3 x 2 meters) shops marked by green neon lights that frame the windows. Customers drive up outside and wait for the betel nut girls to run out and offer them nuts, cigarettes, and/or liquor. These girls are popular. In fact, Taiwanderful tells me the betel nut is actually Taiwan’s second largest agricultural crop.

Imagine that.

It is rumoured that the first betel nut girls brought “glamour” to the opening of a betel nut shop back in the 1960s. The opening was so successful that other shops began following suit. Before long, betel nut girls began peddling their wares all along Taiwan’s countryside and urban cities. They have even been the object of two Taiwanese films over the past decade.

Christine Wu, PhD, has been studying the betel nut beauties for years. She conducted an interview of 300 girls and deduced that “Most betel nut beauties are from underprivileged families, and most of them take the job because they have to make a living”.

Many of these beauties hail from farming and working-class families. Coincidentally, they tend to sell to working-class people and truck drivers. Betel nut beauties also often work long hours, typically throughout the night, all while wearing high heels and a smile.

I mean, it seems easy enough:

Step 1: Be hot, wear very little clothing.

Step 2: Count beans.

Step 3: Sell beans.

Step 4: Profit.

A betel nut girl peddles her wares

Yet, I’m left wondering, do they feel empowered by their bodies and their jobs or do they feel exposed and used? Are they simply beautiful little dolls in their shiny roadside boxes or is this a means to an end for them? Do they have to dress skimpy or can they wear “normal” clothing? Do they only sell products or do they sell themselves as well?

“In this business, sex sells. Skimpy outfit is considered the uniform,” said Edison Chang, the owner of a betel nut booth in Shulin District, New Taipei City. “I don’t personally ask my employees to wear less to sell, but if they’re willing, I have no problem with it.” (www.culture.tw.com)

Based on everything I’ve read, it sounds like despite their appearance, they have fairly strict personal boundaries.

Tobie Openshaw, who has been photographing the beauties for years in an effort to tell their story (all of the photos in this blog were taken by him), had this to say: “The difference is that here, you don’t get the woman in the box, you get betel nuts, drinks, and sure, a look at a pretty girl, a smile and a few nice words. The transaction doesn’t take anything from the woman, physically.”

Good to know.

But what about empowerment? Well, many betel nut beauties are single mothers or immigrants. Many of them have higher aspirations and see this as a means to an end. Some beauties even own their own booths, further empowering them as self-employed women who can earn around $50,000 yearly – about twice as much as a fresh Taiwanese college grad can expect to make.

Of course, they get push-back from locals as well as from authorities who often tell them to cover up or even harass them. Some buyers try to touch them or take it too far. Some locals consider them propagators of a vulgar betel-nut culture and compare them to prostitutes or strippers. I suspect this is because rather than behind closed doors, these women very openly dress scantily.

I find this all a bit hypocritical, really. If we had issues with women who posed in lingerie, we’d have to give lingerie models a call and ask them to cover up. We’d also have to tell most pop stars (including Taiwan’s Jolin Tsai) to put more clothing on.

In closing, it seems as though betel nut beauties are hard-working females who need to earn a living, and this is one of the more lucrative ways to do so. Of course, there are many things to be concerned with: public health, degradation of women, public perception, and even environmental costs of planting the crop, if you want to take it a step further. But love them or hate them, there is no doubt that betel nut beauties are a unique part of Taiwanese culture.

At least for now, they’re here to stay.

—

Follow Ava on Twitter and connect with her on Facebook.

Japan (Flickr photo KatB Photography)

Todd Anderson is a freelance writer for the University of Southern California’s Masters in Education online program, which prepares student to earn an MA in TESOL as well as a California credential.

Living in a culture as different as Japan’s can be challenging for many Americans. I lived in Japan for six months during my junior year of college and did everything I could to not be one of those stereotypical gaijin (foreigner) who only hang out with other Westerners and never become a part of the real Japan.

Here are some of the things I figured out that were most important to living life to the fullest in Japan:

1. Talk as much as possible
Well, maybe not as much as possible, but don’t miss out on any opportunities to have a conversation in Japanese. Many Japanese people are curious about Westerners and what they think about Japan, and will be happy to endure your mediocre Japanese to get to know you. You can also give them an opportunity to practice their English.

I met my closest Japanese friend when we were both waiting in a doctor’s office to have a physical done. He was wearing a goofy pair of shorts and I made a joke about them, and it turned out we had a lot in common and ended up meeting for coffee or drinks several times a week for the rest of my stay. A close Japanese friend will make navigating Japan much easier, as well as giving you great conversation practice.

2. Eat and be merry
Japan has amazing food made with fresh, delicious ingredients. There are many types of meals to try besides your stereotypical ones like sushi and yakisoba. Do yourself a favor and try abura ramen and shabu shabu. The Japanese takes on other cuisines such as Chinese, Indian and Indonesian are also very good, as they blend some local ingredients and cooking styles with dishes from afar. Get together with some eating buddies and try something new!

3. Do something!
Food is great, but too many foreigners living in Japan spend their lives in a monotonous cycle of working, eating, drinking and sleeping. Many are too intimidated by the language barrier to try a group activity or participate in an event, but there’s no way to get around this fear — you have to push through it! You can find a group of people doing almost anything you would enjoy in America, especially if you’re connected to a school or university.

When I was in Japan, I joined an Ultimate Frisbee team, which is how I got most of my exercise as well as how I met many of my Japanese friends. I also joined a reggae band in which I played trombone. Being a part of these groups gave me lots of opportunities to practice my Japanese as well as keep doing the things I love. I had other American friends who joined a Coffee Appreciation Society and a Snowball Fight Club. There’s something for everyone.

Ask around at your school or use the Internet (possibly with the help of a Japanese friend) to find something to do in your area. English language magazines like Metropolis can be a great help too.

4. Learn to love the train
Odds are you won’t be driving a car while you’re in Japan, so the sooner you learn to get around by train, the better. This is especially true of Tokyo, where I lived and where there are over 100 different train lines to choose from. But don’t worry, there are lots of helpful websites such as Jorudan where you can put in any two stations and it will show you the fastest route between them.

Anywhere you want to go in Japan can be reached by train and even though it’s a little pricey, you should try riding the shinkansen (bullet train) when you travel between cities.

Some things you should be aware of when riding the train in Japan:

• You have to pay for the distance you travel on the train, which means each stop is more money out of your pocket. Some trips across Tokyo can cost $10 to $15.
• The trains stop running around 1 A.M., so you’ll have to be sure to catch your shuuden (last train). I once misread the station name and got off my last train at the wrong stop, but luckily found some fellow students from my university who let me sleep at their place.
• Trains get really packed during rush hour, sometimes to the point where station employees have to shove people in so the doors will close. Try to take up as little space as possible, breathe deeply and remain calm. It’s stressful at first, but you get used to it.

—

Now you’re ready to go off and enjoy your time in Japan. Ittekimasu!

Today’s guest blog is written by Ava Apollo – a lover of travel and previous resident of Taipei, Taiwan.

For the previous post in this series, click here.

I called ABC and told him the news, and said I just didn’t know what was next for me, but I couldn’t expect him to just stick around while I figured it out.  He said he wanted to help, and that he could be there for me, but I didn’t think I’d be able to forgive myself if I told him to give up his dream, and to move home with me – a girl with no ideas and no maps.

I took a short breath and told him I had to let him go.  I hung up the phone and sobbed for a while, but I knew what I did was better for both of us.  Timing was not on our side, despite all fate had done to draw us together.

It seemed like a waste.  I felt like the universe was saying something by having us run into each other, twice – both times complete products of happenstance.  How could this not work out?  We both loved Dave Chapelle!  We were both globetrotters hailing from California!  He understood me!

However, such is life, isn’t it?

I tied up some loose ends and prepared to return home.  At the airport, I had to pay a fine and received a stamp in my passport, stating that I could not return without a visa for the following year – whereas normally a visitor from the US can stay visa-free for 30 days, I believe.  I came to refer to this as my passport’s scarlet letter.

So, I admitted defeat, and boarded the plane back home.

Welcome home

I touched down at LAX just as the sun was setting.  Everyone else decided to land at the same time, so there were hordes of people trying to make it through customs at the same time as I.

Still in my groggy state from my less-than-relaxing plane sleep, I accidentally left my passport in the bathroom outside of the customs queue.  realizing my mistake, I rushed back in and started pushing stall doors open, praying it would still be there.   I accidentally opened a door of an occupied stall and heard “Hey! You’re supposed to knock first!” to which I automatically fired back “And YOU’RE supposed to lock the f**king door!”

It was clear right then and there, we are not in Taiwan anymore, Toto.

I found my passport and scurried out, waited in the line, and answered the usual questions:

“Do you have any items with you that you acquired abroad?”
“Of course not” (it was a lie, such a lie!)

I got the thank you very much and got the heck out of there before anyone could ask me to pay any taxes.

During the drive home one thing became exceedingly odd to me:  I could see the horizon.  I had spent so long living in a city, I hadn’t seen it in ages.   Also, California was dry.  Not that I minded leaving the humidity behind, but my skin felt instantly chapped.

When I finally made it home, and walked into my room…

I just have to tangent real quick.  My mom had done her best to clean up my room and make it nice for me, though I could still detect that my brother had been using it as his storage room.  His toys were everywhere, along with scattered papers and a multitude of blankets.  I think he built a fort…or something.  Also, she gave my old cell phone to him while I was gone.  I can only imagine the texts this 11-year old  kid got, meant for his 21-year-old sister who just graduated from a “party school.”  I cringe.

Ahem, walked into my room and felt an extremely odd mixture of familiarity and distance.  It had been years since I’d actually lived here, given that I moved out when I was 18 to go to school.  I’m sure most recent grads feel this way when they move back home, but this was odd on a new level.  My walls weren’t concrete anymore like they were in Taipei; they were dry wall.  My floor was carpet now rather than raised wood.  I no longer had a wall-unit AC and my windows had screens on them.  Of course, this was an upgrade from my last digs (which, I might add, were only $300 monthly), but it just felt odd.

What's my next move?

I didn’t know what to do with myself.  Do I call people to tell them I’m back?  Will they care?  I had kept contact well enough and I knew that really, nothing changed while I was gone, as I had originally feared.  It appeared that everything carried on without me, and now that I was back, I would just hop right back in.

After I got a phone.  And a job.  And an apartment.  And stuff.

Find your new life here... along with everyone else. Happy recession

Fast forward to present day:  I now work in a cubicle farm where I daydream about travel writing, pretend I’ve achieved this dream by writing blogs about the subject (because everyone knows how big of a deal bloggers are), and reminisce about my days in Asia.  Every time I run into a rude, self-centered individual (it happens constantly, I live in LA for crying out loud!), bite into a severely under-ripened mango, or long for some decent public transportation, I think of Taipei.  Sometimes, I even yearn for it.

It’s been said before on the interwebs by a whole lot of folks besides me, that living abroad changes a person forever .

It’s true.

I went to Taipei a scared girl with no plans, and discovered that I was not only capable of being independent, but also capable of being a citizen of the world.  So many people fear leaving home, and I don’t blame them.  But the fact is, there’s more out there for us than we can ever find in our own backyard.

My journey helped me discover who I am and what I can be.  Even now, I look back on my 20-something years on this earth and I can say I’ve lived.  I made the most of it so far, and there’s no stopping me now.  Every time I come up with a crazy new idea or just want to take off again, I remind myself that there are no safe harbors, there are always naysayers, and in the end, I traveled farther mentally than I ever did physically, and I want to keep going.

I suspect anyone who has lived abroad will say the same thing.

So what am I getting at with this?  Well I believe it’s high time for my final realization…

Self Realization from Living Abroad: I am changed for the better.

Today’s guest blog is written by Ava Apollo – a lover of travel and previous resident of Taipei, Taiwan.

For the previous post in this series, click here.

The time came for my family to leave Taipei and return to California, and a slight tinge of loneliness set in. Sure, I had a great roommate who I loved hanging out with.  I had met a great crew of people from all over the world; South Africans, Canadians, Brits, and even fellow Americans – I had great friends. I even had a few language exchange partners who worshipped the ground I walked on, and thought I was their greatest teacher ever. It felt really good to connect with doctors and businessmen as an equal, and to meet so many other like-minded people such a long way from home.

Regardless, nothing could stop me from pining over the pictures of my friends from back home, all together and enjoying their final months of school without care in the world.  I was coming to the end of my semester and therefore my scholarship, and had to decide if it was the right move to return home, or to find a teaching job and support myself in Taiwan.  But the same questions always arose:  For what? Shouldn’t I get started on life? What does that even mean?

Arghh! What's next?! I don't know! I feel like a child!

I’d sit on the computer for hours each day, chatting with my newfound maybe-kind-of-boyfriend-but-we’re-not-really-sure friend, ABC, via skype while he was at work.  At 9 years older, and already in possession of his dream job and a law degree, he couldn’t understand my dilemma.  

“Why are you sitting inside all day?”  he’d ask, “You need to go out and explore! You’ve been given such an amazing opportunity to be here, use it!”

“But I’ve already done that, I’ve been there, I’ve seen it! I’ve used my opportunity, but what do I do now”? was always my response.  It must have driven him crazy to hear someone with the world at her feet going through such a ridiculous dilemma.

I couldn’t help it, though. I wasn’t prepared for this whole “life” and “adulthood” thing and I felt like nobody else understood.

All through school, I was told to get an A in class if I wanted to “succeed,” so I did.  All through my university years, I did the same thing. I was so sure success would be mine as long as I always met the benchmarks, pleased those around me, and brought home a glowing GPA.  I was told that’s all I needed to do, and success would be mine.

Look Ma! I did it! Be proud of me! Give me approval!

However, now, here I was in a world where nobody cared about my A in Anthropology of Eastern Cultures, not to mention my B (oh, it killed me) in Micro-Economics.

Why didn’t anyone warn me that there is no set path after graduation? Why wasn’t there a class called “This is what happens next. You better be freaking prepared”?

My questions and complaints annoyed ABC to no end.  I felt so lost and confused.  It was like a quarter-life crisis without any reason for having a crisis in the first place.  I simply didn’t know what was supposed to come next. For the first time ever, there was nobody there to tell me what to do.

It was years later, after my friends worked, or rather didn’t, through the worst recession of our lifetimes, that I finally realized I was not alone, so very not alone, with all of these questions and feelings.

During the course of this time I fell into a type of depression.  It annoyed me to no end that I couldn’t go and take care of things myself.  If I needed a battery, for example, I had to just hunt for it and translate endlessly, it was a task that I was starting to resent. Each day felt lonelier, and the questions about my future just kept mounting.

This is the sort of thing about me that ABC started to resent.  Here I was, a 21 year old girl out living a life others had worked years to reach – outside of the bounds of cubicles, 401ks, and dogs named spike and white picket fences.  How could I take such an obtuse approach to something as wonderful as living abroad?

Then, one day, bad news hit; ABC would be an early casualty of what was beginning to be a declining world-wide economy, and he was let go from his dream job.  

Why, world, why do we now both have to be in this position of uncertainty?

I remember on one of his final days he met me for lunch, and we took a walk.  I was in limbo, deciding if I should stay or go, and he was also in limbo, figuring out what was next for him.  I can’t remember the whole conversation now, but I do remember asking, “so what about us? IS there even an ‘us’? What happens if you get another job here and I can’t?”

He cut me off immediately and said “Don’t worry about that, we’ll figure out a way if we need to,”

Of course, me with my questions had to keep pressing, forcing him to say what I so desperately needed to hear “Ava, I wouldn’t be that selfish! If this is real, then of course I’ll put this first.  Do you want it to be real?”

To this question I didn’t have an answer.  I always told myself, after a massive heartbreak a few years prior, never to plan ahead with a guy anymore, because the future was never a given, and I didn’t want to set myself up for disappointment.  Would we have a future here? Could we find one amidst all this uncertainty?  Did I want to force him to be stuck in my tangled web of stress and questions?  I didn’t know if it was fair. I wasn’t sure that I could be who he wanted me to be.  

Amidst all the confusion I made a cardinal error, one I didn’t realize would have such drastic implications; I let my visa expire prior to the renewal date.  As soon as I realized, I got myself to the renewal office and was told I had get a new visa, and renewal was no longer an option.  This meant I had  get a job, stat, but not before leaving the country first and paying $300 for a new visa, plus the monetary penalty for letting this visa lapse.

I was flabbergasted.  

Are you sure?  It’s just 3 days! I’m a student! Why does 3 days matter?!

Will I never experience this again?

It matters, kiddies, they don’t mess around.

So, I was left with an ultimatum, sign on to teach for a year (should I mention that I only like quiet, well-mannered children? Teaching probably isn’t my cup of cha),  or foot the bill myself for another semester here.  Or, I could just accept that fate had a plan, and it was time for me to be thankful for what I had, and finish out my 8 months here then take off into the unknown.

It was crazy.  Suddenly I wanted to spend all day translating and trying to hunt for random items – something I had come to resent lately.  I didn’t want to give up my fresh mango that never tasted as good back home, I didn’t want to give up my new friends, and I suddenly didn’t give a flying f**k about what my friends back home were doing.  This was being taken from me?  I failed that miserably?

I knew what I had do.  

I picked up the phone, scrolled through to ABC’s number, pushed “call,” then held my breath.

Whew! I’ve never relived that part before! My brain needs a break, but I’ll wrap this up soon.

Self realization: Studying abroad brings more challenges forth than you ever think it will.  Life will be changed, and there may be rough patches, but stick with me through the rest of the story.  It was all worth it, in the end.  I promise.

Have some realizations of your 0wn? Tell me on Twitter and connect with me on Facebook!

Today’s guest blog is written by Ava Apollo – a lover of travel and previous resident of Taipei, Taiwan.

For the previous post in this series, click here.

Winter was an exciting time in Taipei for a few reasons; it was nearly time for lunar new year, it was too cold for mosquitoes to keep tormenting me, and lastly, my family was coming to visit and take me on a little trip around Taiwan! To say I was beyond thrilled would be an understatement.

So, in came the mother and the brother and out went the homesickness I had been feeling.  First, we took the famous high-speed train to Sun Moon Lake, one of the prettiest lakes I’ve ever had the pleasure of hiking around.  It was like the stereotypical “Asian” lake in Hollywood movies, complete with misty mountains and golden and red pagodas.

It really exists, you guys.

But then he realized he could keep doing it.

After being told to make SURE we had used the restroom, we hopped back on the bus and, of course, I had just drank a good gallon of liquid, and we had a few hours left to go.  The tour guide was asleep in the front of the bus, and I froze with fear.  Knowing that nobody could be mad at a little boy, I turned to my brother and asked him to pretend like he was the one who needed to pee, and could he ask that we please stop the bus?  

A devilish grin came across his face.  

“Sure, I’ll do it for $300,” he ventured.
“You little twerp” I retorted.
“OK, fine then YOU ask him,”
“Nooo I don’t want to! What about $100? Please? For your big sister?”

After some back and forth, it became clear that the going rate was a firm $300.  I don’t think I’ve ever taken a more expensive piss in my life, pardon my French.

But I have to say, he was a good actor.  He scurried off the bus as soon as we stopped and I, being his big sister, had to non-chalantly saunter after him, you know, to make sure he made it back on the bus alright and didn’t make any wrong turns.

At the end of the evening we made our way to Hualien  where the sidewalks are paved in marble (for real).  The next day’s activity was a tour around Taroko Gorge, where we experienced the hanging bridge:

It be hangin'

The Eternal Spring Shrine:

Beautiful

The tunnel of 9 turns:

That's a lot of turns

And thanked my lucky stars we didn’t tackle this via scooter (you may recall, I consider scooters to be chariots of doom) like many do.  

It was simply Gorgeous (I know, I know, there I go with the puns again). 

It was enlightening to finally understand Taiwan as a beautiful country that was worth touring.  So often when speaking with my friends back home, we would say things like “I’m dying to go to Thailand,” or “I want to study abroad in Amsterdam,” but nobody ever said “I’d really like to take a tour of Taiwan, I heard it’s lovely this time of year!”

I have to admit, had I not been taught Mandarin by Taiwanese teachers at my university, I might never have even considered living in Taiwan myself.  I had no idea what it would be like.  I thought of it as a poor, barren wasteland where all of my plastic belongings came from.  I could have never expected to see Fendi stores throughout Taipei, marble gorges in central Taiwan, nor gorgeous beaches in the south of the island.

Finally, the term “formosa,” (“beautiful,” in English) coined by Portuguese explorers in the 16th century, made sense to me.  This island was indeed formosa, and without coming here to see it myself I would never have known it.  

Nor would my mother and brother.  

My brother would also be $10 poorer, so there’s a perk.

Self realization after month 5: It’s fun to be a tourist at home.

For the next blog in this series, click here!

Have some realizations of your 0wn? Tell me on Twitter and connect with me on Facebook!

Today’s guest blog is written by Ava Apollo – a lover of travel and previous resident of Taipei, Taiwan.

For the previous post in this series, click here.

It’s the moments, like right now, when I sit down and mentally relive it that are both amazingly wonderful and somewhat painful at the same time, mostly because it’s over and feels so distant from me now. As A Perfect Circle so perfectly articulated, “say hello to everything you’ve left behind. It’s even more a part of your life now that you can’t touch it”.

My favorite time of day was right around 7pm.  This was partially because the city center lit up in rainbow lights, which for some reason are extremely calming to watch as they change from shades of red, to blue, to purple (my favorite, of course). The lights would power up on the famous 101 building, reminding us by the color, in case we forgot, which day of the week it was.

Another very important thing happened around 7pm; ABC was off of work and he’d send a call or text, and each of us walk down Xin Yi street to meet half way like school kids. I’d skip out into the brisk winter air, knowing that once I saw ABC, I’d suddenly feel warmed.  Perhaps we’d run into each other below the giant TV screen that always had tulips on it (it was promoting a camera, I think), in front of the Wall Street Institute building, or in front of one of the numerous coffee shops. It was a little game; who could get farther first?

Xin Yi, perhaps Taipei's most famous street

We’d then hop in a cab and go to a restaurant, take a walk, or venture to a nearby pub.  It really didn’t matter where we went, because I had always been waiting all day to have a long conversation in English, and it was finally time.  Plus, ABC was my favorite conversationalist.  There was never an awkward moment, we never had to search for things to say, and we never needed to rely on topics like weather or politics to keep the conversation going.

Somewhere in the world, wherever he may be and whomever he may be with, I suspect he is still a great conversationalist.  I believe this to be an innate skill.

She's a lucky one

Those were simply the week nights, though.  It was the weekend when the fun really started.  Though I spent a fair amount of time at clubs, dancing the night away, or at the flat of a friend, celebrating a birthday, I’d have to say my favorite weekend memory would have to be the evening we escaped the city and ended up at the top of one of the mountains surrounding Taipei; Yang Ming Shan.

Want to get there yourself?  Take a cab (though it’s an hour ride), or board bus 260 from the bus stop outside Ximen MRT Station Exit 3. (please verify this before setting off on your journey as bus schedules are ever-changing).

Sitting at one of the mountainside restaurants as the sun slowly set, sipping on tea and eating some of the most amazing cheesecake I’d ever had, I felt warm and whole.  I was a half a world away from everything I knew, and everyone I loved, but I felt complete.  The city was buzzing just a few miles away from me, but I felt at peace.

Then, as the last of the red sunset bled away from the sky and the tip of the sun slipped below the horizon, in a dynamic exchange of light and energy, the city lights powered on.  One by one, my beloved rainbow lights began changing slowly, simply adding to the mood. Lastly, as the sky turned black, the Taipei 101 powered on and turned indigo, reminding us that it was Saturday.

Awe. Just in awe.

I pinched myself; something I always do when I want to remind myself to slow down and savor the moment.  To this day, I still savor that moment when I made a very important realization:

Taipei is beautiful.  Life is beautiful.  There is beauty to be found in everything.

For the next post in this series, please click here.

Have some realizations of your 0wn? Tell me on Twitter and connect with me on Facebook!