Crossing the Divide

DaZhi Bridge in Taipei. *Photo Credit

One of my mom's close friends came to visit me today. She took a special trip from Taichung on the HSR just to see how things were going. It was really sweet of her and I hope in my heart that one day I will have a friendship long-lasting and close enough to merit visits with the their children when they get older. I just thought of how my mom and her friend have known each other for so long and  even though they don't talk often, they have kept in touch through all these years and have helped take care of each others' kids when their journeys happened to take them overseas.

I really appreciated Ah-yi's* visit because she made me feel like an equal--never once did she make me feel like she was mothering or patronizing me. She even exclaimed that my Chinese has improved--which says a lot for what it used to be. Although, I wouldn't really say my Chinese has improved so much that I am more willing now to speak it, being set in the environment. And being in the environment, I was glad that I knew what to do when they came into my house: apologize for not having slippers, give them water to drink even though they told me not to, and offer them some snacks. I always knew that the culturally-appropriate manners my mother tried to teach me would come in useful one day. I still lack a lot of them, but I felt that I am beginning to make the first steps to crossing the cultural gap. Maybe this is one of the reasons why I wanted to come back to Taiwan.

I feel a special connection with this Ah-yi because she was a schoolteacher and her husband is a doctor--models of what B and I aspire to be someday, when we grow up. Mom has alluded to me on several occasions that even though it wasn't easy for them in the beginning, through the strength and selflessness of Ah-yi, she kept her family together and running strong. I have a lot of respect for a woman like that. A lady who would stay up waiting to greet her husband with love and homey comforts after a long night shift, a lady who would not complain about the difficulties of being a doctor's wife, but look for the best in every situation.

It struck me today that I have caught a glimpse of the very kind of attitude it takes to really OWN one's life. Yesterday I went to a Chinese wedding banquet with my aunt (yes, I was a wedding crasher) and she told me how in the early days of her own marriage she and her husband were so busy working, her firstborn daughter didn't even recognizer her daddy because he was gone so much. As she was telling me the sad story of the difficulty that the majority of Taiwanese families face (long separations for the sake of earning money), the ache was triggered at the back of my heart and I wondered how they could have lived like that. But then later she told me stories of when their second-born came along and grew a little and they were able to take weekend trips to the south and have picnic lunches and let the kids play in the meadows.
It sounded so beautiful and happy.
I realized later that my aunt and Ah-yi both have one thing in common--an unquenchable zest for life, love for people, and a knack for seeing the bright side of things. They choose to make the most of what they have, where they've been...and it shows to me that happiness is really your own choice. Will I take ownership of my own happiness? Because I can, and if I don't, then no one else will.


Ah-yi and her husband took me to GuanYinShan, a scenic area at the nearest mountain where, on weekends, a little market is set up by the side of the road filled with food, trinkets, produce, and other odd items. I am always curious as to what the people are selling there, but being with people who know how to read Chinese and speak Taiwanese adds a whole nother dimension. I saw things that I've never seen before...seeds to make 愛玉 jello, seeds that work as soap when you crack them open, mountain-grown tree fungus, and a root known for its healing and cleansing powers. Walking along that mountain road next to all those vendors spoke to me somewhere--as if I felt the call of the mountain whose shadow I live under, and the people around it. There is so much more to learn and take in and experience here, and I am only standing on the tip of the iceburg.


After Ah-yi left I took my customary walk around the neighborhood. As I passed an old grandma shuffling along, she sensed my presence and turned to me to nod. I nodded back, knowing the shortcut to the customary bow. But I didn't expect her to speak to me. "Jia ba be?" She asked me, and without missing a beat I replied "Jia ba le," with a smile. Then it hit me that I just had my first exchange in Taiwanese with stranger. The traditional grandma had asked me the traditional greeting, "have you eaten?" And of course I told her I had. Somehow my heart glowed as I walked on.

With every step, I am getting closer.



*Chinese for auntie, the common title we use to address ladies in the same generation as our parents.