Since fall classes are fast approaching and I wanted to tie up a few loose ends, I’ll try to cram these past few weeks into one last blog post.
I guess it would make sense to start where my last post left off. Shortly after I landed in Taipei, I got a text from my uncle asking if I was free to stop by his apartment next weekend to see the rest of the family before I left. It wasn’t until I was already typing my reply that I realized “wait… I just read that? Without using Google translate or anything?” Whenever he’d text me at the start of the summer to figure out when to pick me up from the airport, my stomach would drop because I didn’t have a clue what he was saying. I had to ask my mom to help craft a reply in Chinese since I didn’t trust myself to write my own.
But I read it! And understood it! And replied! And even though it was just a simple text message, it felt like an amazing victory. Like things were starting to come full circle.
So the following Saturday, early in the morning, I hopped on the bus to Linkou. And I was really, really nervous. In my head, this felt like the true final exam of the summer. What if I got there and didn’t understand anything? How disappointing would it be for my family members to gather to see me, just to find out that my Chinese is still garbage? Should I maybe have studied just a little bit harder this summer? For most of the 1½ hour bus ride, I rehearsed over and over in my head what kinds of questions they might ask and how I would respond. The rest of my time was spent reviewing vocabulary flashcards on my phone.
It’s hard to recall the details of what happened once I got off the bus, everything kind of just flew by. But long story short, I don’t think the visit could have gone much better. All of my family was incredibly kind and welcoming, and they all seemed to be really excited that I had the chance to see them. And best of all, I was pleasantly surprised that (for the most part) I was able to keep up conversation! (of course they definitely brought down their Chinese to my speaking level, but we were chatting nonetheless)
Even if I didn’t understand every word they were saying, I could at least still figure out their meaning. And if I couldn’t figure out that, I would just ask. Since the beginning of the summer, my initial response had changed from “uhh sorry, I don’t understand” to “oh, what does that word mean?” I didn’t feel embarrassed or humiliated for not knowing a word anymore; I’d just ask, find out, and then understand what they were trying to say. And yeah, there were still some points where I didn’t catch what they were saying at all and just decided to smile and nod, but otherwise I was able to understand most of it. Admittedly, it was kind of fun to hear their surprised reactions after talking for a little bit – “whoa, he can… talk?” – which is fair, since I guess most of them had never really heard me speak, ever.
I had only planned on staying there for an hour or two, but ended up spending half the day with them. After a lovely breakfast, they took me to my cousin’s salon for a haircut. Despite her initial coldness (when we dropped by her shop last winter, she didn’t even greet me), we were able to make small talk and she suddenly felt much more friendly. They also took me to a huge temple in Linkou and gave me a tour and introduced me to a bit of their Buddhist practices. Afterwards, we went to this little roadside game shop where they usually took the kids after a visit to the temple. The little ones and I played this ridiculously addictive pinball-like game where you could win tickets and exchange them for cheap prizes (I totally kicked their butts). And then my aunt prepared a lunchtime feast to top the whole thing off.
After I finally sat down on the bus home, I was a little in disbelief of how well it all went. And by that I don’t just mean this one visit, but also this whole trip. I set what I thought was a pretty ambitious goal – travel to Taiwan, get better at Chinese, and figure all of this other personal stuff out – but then actually achieved most of it? Maybe even all of it?
I felt not only fulfilled and totally relieved but also for the first time this whole summer, proud. I’m proud that exactly one year ago, I couldn’t speak single word of Chinese – I didn’t even know the right tones for “ni hao” – and now, on my own, I just hung out with my Taiwanese family halfway around the globe. I also felt immensely grateful, because (and I’m being completely honest here) without the strong Chinese resources at Yale and the Light Fellowship, not a single part of this journey would be possible. It blows my mind how lucky I am and how this entire summer could so, so easily never have happened.
The final week of ICLP felt a little bit strange. As we were starting our final exams and such, some students were already leaving early to head back to school. It felt like things were slowly dying out and all the fun was coming to an end.
My apartment contract also ended a few days before the end of the program, so I moved in with my 阿姨 for a few days before heading back home. Her apartment is a 1½ hour MRT ride from the city, so daily commutes to and from ICLP were a bit rough, but I’m really glad I got to see her often before I left. It was also a refreshing change of pace from the busy-ness of Taipei City.
Also, not trying to flex, but I did receive this guy at the end of the program:
I already miss Taiwan. I miss the city, the fun, the food, the people, the sheer convenience of awesome public transportation and 7-Eleven’s on every block. Something about Taipei made the whole place feel so home-y, like I had somehow already been living there for a long time. I just know that I have to get back there somehow, and I probably will. Maybe it’ll take another summer. Maybe I’ll live there after I graduate. Who knows.
A few days before I left Taipei, a friend asked me how I felt my Chinese was right now. I thought about it for a bit, but ended up giving the same answer as I did at the beginning of the summer: pretty bad. Don’t get me wrong, I felt like I improved a lot but I still have a long, long way to go. I still mess up boba orders. I still sometimes forget to say “嗎” whenever I’m asking a yes/no question. I still can’t read menus. If I ask somebody a question in Chinese while I’m in Taiwan, they’ll still sometimes just respond in English. There were some days this summer where I felt like I screwed up every single interaction and would wonder what’s the point in trying if I’m so far away where I want my Chinese to be.
But this summer, I also realized that it doesn’t matter whether or not my Chinese is any “good.” Which sounds like it doesn’t make sense, but I remembered that I never do anything in my life only because I was “good” at it. I’m not studying Chinese only so that one day I can achieve some level of speaking that I deem “good”; I found my drive and motivation for learning Chinese because with each step I take, I feel just a little bit closer to so many things that matter to me. The progress and the appreciation I feel about Chinese helps see and understand more of my family and my mother; it helps me begin to realize an important part of my identity and makes me feel more whole and more proud of who I am.
So for now, I’ll keep on learning. I suppose the difficult part about this kind of approach is I don’t know when to stop taking classes and such, which is further complicated because I now have to weigh the benefit of taking Chinese classes versus everything else at Yale. But as long as that progress still gives me that sense of fulfillment and meaning, I see no real reason to stop. After all, shouldn’t life be a pursuit of the things that fulfill us and bring us joy?
A few days ago, my mom and I were driving out to our local farmer’s market in good ‘ol Kenosha, Wisconsin. Since I got home, we still hadn’t really spoken any Chinese. Even while we Skyped when I was in Taiwan, we’d always just speak English – same as it has always been. Maybe I felt too embarrassed, or too ashamed, or too worried that it might not be enough.
It took every ounce of courage to break the silence in the car. But for the first time ever, I spoke Chinese with her. And I don’t know how to describe what it felt like – maybe like all of the emotions I had throughout this journey all balled up into one feeling. It felt like how it should’ve been, or maybe how we both wanted it to be. Maybe I was a few years too late, but at least we were finally here. And I couldn’t be happier for it.