"U.S. citizens who are considering returning to the United States are urged to work with their airlines to make travel arrangements while flights are still available...You may be forced to remain outside of the United States for an indefinite timeframe."
Three weeks ago I made the tough decision to remain in Taiwan, despite near daily emails like the one above. In Taiwan I have a job, an apartment, friends, and an independent life. Returning home, while amazing to be be with my family during the crisis, in the end would shrink the life I have built for myself.
I am fortunate enough to be living in a country that shines as a beacon of how the coronavirus should have been handled. Taiwan took early, immediate, strict action. Taiwanese citizens trusted their government. And so we have kept our numbers low for a country in such close proximity to the original epicenter.
Those of us in Taiwan have been living in the midst of the coronavirus crisis since January. While stressful when it first began, it has been harrowing to watch other countries not take the situation seriously, mishandle the crisis and the experience the resulting fear, uncertainty and tragedy second-hand from loved ones in America. Now the virus has had a resurgence in Taiwan with imported cases and the fear for personal safety begins all over again.
When I first arrived in Taiwan, a group of friends from home promised they would visit me. Flights were booked in November. In January and February plans went up in the air. Finally, the decision was made (before Taiwan made it official) to cancel the trip. My friends were supposed to arrive from Seattle on April 2nd. I was consoled by the fact I would have a good week and a half off to adventure by myself. The next week my work announced that it would be pausing all April vacations due to low teacher numbers caused by Taiwan cancelling tourist visas. It wasn't until I got my schedule the day before our holiday break that I found out I would be getting my vacation after all.
With almost no time to plan, I settled on day trips. I found some places in Chiayi that looked exciting, as well as a flower farm north of Taichung. On Monday, we were sent a list of places that the government was advising not to visit after the holiday weekend to minimize the spread of the virus. Chiayi was on the list.
At this point, I was starting to get freaked out by growing numbers. Taiwan had jumped from the 70's to nearly 400 due to many imported cases. While there was still limited community spread, precautions were ramped back up. All public transportation required a temperature check and a mask. In fact, almost every place you entered required temperature check, hand sanitization and a mask. The thought of being around large groups of people gave me the heebee jeebees. So I called my friend Ricky and asked if she would want to head out to a flower farm way outside the city, in the countryside of Houli. She said 当然！
We chatted for the hour long train ride, catching up after our adventures over the holiday weekend. Ricky used to work as an LA for my school and now we meet up as language partners. Our conversation flowed back and forth between Chinese and English, sometimes ending up with a decent amount of Chinglish.
It felt good to be traveling with a local. Since Taiwan stopped granting tourist visas, the attitude towards white people is now more than general curiosity. At dinner I can hear other patrons discussing how most foreigners had to return to their countries. People have moved away when I sit down, despite the fact I observed social distancing protocols. Emily was even asked if she was allowed to be in Taiwan (you can read about that story and her experience abroad here). While this pales in comparison to the discrimination and hate crimes currently faced by the Asian American community in America, it still stings. I want to wear a sign that says "I'm not a tourist. I have a job. I've been in Taiwan for 8 months." Being with Ricky eases some of the burden. It helps me to feel as though I belong.
After a very brief taxi ride from Houli station, we arrived at the Zhongshe Flower Market 中社花市 (entrance fee: $120NT). We're definitely out in the country at this point. Houli was nothing more than a single street of rundown buildings. At the garden, the blue sky stretches unencumbered to rolling green hills. We took off our masks, free from the threat of other people. On a Wednesday, the garden is almost empty. And thus begins the picture taking extravaganza.
The garden is less “flower garden” and more “closely cultivated photo op”. The flowers are arranged to create hearts and pictures. There are numerous props to pose with and stools amid the rows of flowers to get the perfect angle. We galavant around, laughing, taking silly selfies and soaking in the beauty. It is a near perfect day. The sun shines from a blue sky, a gentle breeze keeping the heat at bay (though not sunburn, unfortunately).
After months of stewing in uncertainty, anger, fear and apathy, the trip was like a breaking the surface of churning water and getting a glimpse of the horizon. The duality of living a normal life while at the same time watching my family and friends in America succumb to the impact of the pandemic had taken a toll. It felt wrong to go out and enjoy myself. Traveling with Ricky serves as a reminder that despite the circumstances, the reasons I came to Taiwan still remain. I am here to see the beauty of this country, and to make friends with the people here.
After taking, I kid you not, nearly 400 photos, we had worked up an appetite. We grabbed food in Houli at a Disney themed lunch shop. Then we caught a train back to Changua, snagged some cake and bubble tea and walked up to the Buddha to chat some more. Despite our different native languages, we've both got enough of either English or Chinese to delve into whatever subject comes up, be it boyfriends, work, college, possessing a sixth sense, or really weird would you rather questions (Would you rather fight 100 duck-sized horses or 1 horse-sized duck? Imagine translating that!).
When the sun set and the mosquitos flocked like birds, we walked back to my place for a few rounds of cards. I recently learned Palace from Emily, and I taught Ricky and kicked her butt a few times. If you're looking for a good card game for 2-5 players during lockdown, I recommend giving this one a try.
It was dark by the time Ricky finally headed home. The day of quiet adventuring had refilled my cup. As I look to the fast approaching end of my time in Taiwan there is much uncertainty. My original plans of traveling the world will obviously no longer be possible, and depending on how the virus continues to spread in Taiwan, it might not be possible to travel here either, or even, in the extreme case, get home. But no matter how dark the situation seems at the moment, days like this provide a ray of light and the ability to keep forging on.
"Where flowers bloom so does hope."
コメント