Being “foreign” is an eye opening, somewhat liberating
experience. Liberating in the sense that I feel I can, on occasion, act outside
of the bounds of social conformity because, hey, I’m a crazy foreigner! Eye
opening in a more obvious way – There are many cultural differences but it
doesn’t mean that my life isn’t as “normal” as it was in the States. I have a
routine, and yes it includes walking buy a smelly pork flake stand to get to
the grocery store daily, and going to the park where Henri plays with children
who speak a different language, and sometimes walking by open flames on the
sidewalk where someone is burning fake money for their ancestors – but we are used
to it. It surprises me how normal my life feels.
I had to learn a few things the hard way. I learned that if
you don’t have your address on you in Chinese, and have a very difficult to
pronounce and not well known street address, you may have to walk home, covered
in your child’s vomit, from the doctor’s office instead of taking a taxi.
I know how it feels to be illiterate in the sense that I
have no idea what some of the businesses I walk by everyday do or sell since
it’s all written in Chinese! I can’t
read the sale signs in the grocery store and often the clerk runs off to get me
an item when I missed a buy one get one free sign.
I learned that I totally froze in fear when the earth
started shaking side to side during the 6.0 earthquake that hit Taiwan instead
of taking cover. I learned how noisy wind can be during a typhoon.
I learned how frustrating it is to not understand how a
healthcare system works – and how that contributed to me not getting the proper
care for Henri when he was sick.
I learned that people
here are really nice and that they love babies and that if something falls out
of your stroller a stranger will chase you down for a block to return it.
I learned why (mostly) women walk around with umbrellas rain
or shine (the sun is brutal here in the summer and on occasion I was very
tempted to hide under my umbrella when it was especially sunny).
We’ve gotten used to the extra attention Henri gets from
passersby and the photographs, the use of loud speakers on trucks and outside stores,
money burning on the sidewalk, the mosquitos, the smell of five spice (a widely
used spice that includes star anise, a really fragrant herb that just knocks
you out when you walk into any 7-11 where they soak boiled eggs in black tea
and this spice, ugh).
We’ve gotten used to seeing people in surgical masks – this
really stood out to me when I arrived and now I don’t notice it anymore. They wear
them when they are sick or avoiding sun or to avoid inhaling fumes on a motor
scooter and probably other reasons I don’t know.
I still marvel at the extremes some people here go through
to avoid sun exposure – I see ladies on the tennis court wearing long sleeves
and pants in the dead heat of summer to protect their skin – there are these hilariously
large sun visors that are more like half a sombrero they are so widely brimmed –
and some ladies wear a tinted plastic shield that covers their entire face,
which is kinda creepy.
I still despise the motor scooters that drive down the
sidewalk.
Okay, although I’m used to it I still hate the darn
mosquitos but have made great headway in my ongoing war against them (luckily
they haven’t been so bad this summer). And I still hate going on the car
elevator.
This year abroad has coincided with a year of watching Henri
grow from an infant to a toddler. It also coincided with me not working for the
longest stretch of my life since I had my first job at 15. I don’t know what has changed me the most. But for the first time in my life, at 34 years
old, I finally feel like a grown up (it’s official-mark the date!).
