Description
I arrived in Taiwan on October 12, 2017, with disheveled hair, a tired look, but with the desire to learn more about the country and its people. This first episode retraces my journey from the airport to my hostel, making stops at street restaurants. It is also my first encounter and discussion with a Taiwanese person.
Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Transcription
For more than six months, I traveled to Taiwan, located in East Asia, in search of discovery and understanding of Taiwanese society. My primary goal was to get to know its people, their aspirations, their travels, their strengths, and their weaknesses. In order to guarantee the anonymity of the people I met, I voluntarily changed their identities. Keep your wings, le podcast. Chapter 1. A drop in the ocean. It was with trepidation that I landed early in the morning on October 12th 2017 at Taoyuan International Airport. It's one of Taiwan's three major airports. With a dry throat, numb feet, and disheveled hair, the blood vessel that irrigated my eyes had already abandoned me for several hours anyway. I was a curious spectacle for the custom officer, who seemed to be scrutinizing me from either side. As I left the plane, the strangest shiver had already run down my spine. I was the only European on board, the only white person. Very quickly, I understood that Taiwan was going to offer me a complete change of scenery, totally unlike anything I had already experienced. The signpost, the hubbub, the announcement crackling through the speakers constantly reminded me that the world I found myself in was going to be very different from the one I had left. I was no longer considered a tourist who wandered from bar to bar, from souvenir stalls to street restaurants. I was an anomaly among the inhabitants of this 35,883 per square kilometer island. I attracted attention. However, unlike many other countries I have visited, I was never mobbed by traders or street vendors. No one ever tried to sell me a scooter, questionable trinkets or even caps emblazoned with I love Taiwan. I understood that I was already part of this urban jungle, without being totally integrated into it. I had barely stepped outside when the excessive humidity, combined with the rain, fogged my glass in a matter of seconds. Trying in vain to wipe them away, a very plump man addresses me in Chinese. I try a few sentences in English to let him know that I I didn't understand what he was saying to me. It was a waste of effort. The man looked at me dazed, faced with his incomprehension. I decided to take out my cell phone and show him the address of my hostel. The man nodded at me. I was at the right bus stop. After about 20 minutes, a somewhat old-fashioned bus stopped in front of me. I showed my ticket to the driver and took a seat in the completely empty vehicle. The air conditioning did me a lot of good. It must be said that the temperature outside was around 30 degrees, despite the rain. On the bus that took me to Taipei Main Station, I had the opportunity to observe, through the pale windows, the landscape before me. What an astonishing contrast. Small street shops surrounded in the distance by mountains gradually transform over the miles into tall buildings and heavy traffic. It should be noted that Taipei, the capital, is the seventh city with the highest demographic density, with 15,200 inhabitants per square kilometer. In comparison, Brussels has only 2,200 inhabitants per square kilometer. Once disembarked, to my great surprise I managed to pronounce a few words in Mandarin that were understandable by the locals, who directed me to the metro station where I needed to reach my hostel. A bit like in Japan, people queue before entering the subway cars. The hustle and bustle so present in Belgium seemed to be banned from the daily habits of the population here. Very clean as well, the metro displayed strict instructions. It was strictly forbidden to drink, eat, chew gum, or even nibble nuts under penalty of fines. Unlike Japan, the subways in Taipei were very noisy. People laughed out loud, talked loudly, and didn't hesitate to greet each other, even on the other hand of the metro. However, one thing remained consistent. Most Taiwanese people had their eyes glued to their phones. I mean, I couldn't blame them, I was also glued to mine, almost forgetting that I didn't have any internet plan to help me find my way. It was only once I left the Shinihanghe station that my adventure truly began, punctuated by the incessant background noise caused by the heavy rains. I felt like my senses had been taken away from me. I heard, but I didn't understand. I read, but I didn't understand either. The language barrier was truly the first obstacle that I had to overcome as quickly as possible. Once settled in my hostel, I realized that I was at least three hours early for checking, and therefore, my room was still not ready. After leaving my bag, I set off in search of discoveries, too eager to explore this new playground. I rushed to the First Street restaurant in Taiwan. The smells quickly tickled my nostrils. Fried chicken, dumplings, beef noodle soup, grilled fish. Everything I loved in one place. It was a real buffet, where you chose your meat, fish, your vegetable accompaniment, mainly boiled. your hors d'oeuvre, oyster and tomato omelette, sweet potatoes or soups, as well as a portion of rice. Other street vendors offer a limited choice of food, but were almost much cheaper. Some made fried octopus, other dumplings, or even seafood noodle soup. Suffice it to say that everything was done to give the gourmand in me all the desires to eat. Only the oh-so-sickening smell of stinking tofu made me want to vomit every time it crossed my path. This was a broth to which pieces of tofu had been added, fermented for several months, a must for local, a pestilential smell for me. At first, I thought a pipe had been cut before realizing that it was indeed food from a street vendor. However, fatigue, lack of vocabulary and terrible weather did not allow me to take advantage of all my desire for exploration. I then... decided to turn back, shortly before my room was finally ready. The space inn was a space-themed hostel. The pink and purple lights gave the appearance of a lunar station. The doors emitted a "pschiit" when open, and the lockers were only unlocked via a badge emitting a shrill sound straight out of a video game. The kid in me was exultant. After taking a shower and dropping off all my things, I tried to get to know several people in my hostel. However, with the language barriers still present, I was unable to establish real communication with them. I had to wait until my third day before meeting Tsai, a 20-year-old Taiwanese with a good level of English. With shoulder-length black hair, a cold good smile, and a pleasant face, he held all this end to me with a Where are you from? After passing the first replica facade, the ice quickly broke. Very spontaneously, we discussed very seriously. Nothing could have suggested that we would share the same concerns. A fact which was subsequently confirmed to me. The mask we all try to wear quickly breaks down abroad. We don't speak to impress the audience or seek some form of recognition. We seek to reassure ourselves by laying our cards directly on the table with our interlocutor. Tsai had been traveling between London and Taipei for over a year now.
I have a better future there,
he explained to me.
I work in finance and I earn enough money. more than I could get here.
Wasn't it too difficult to settle there?
At first, I had difficulty making ends meet. It's better now. I deprive myself a little, but it's what I like to do. It allowed me to be more independent, even if that's not what my parents were concerned about.
What scares them?
That I am far from them. They would have preferred that I found a small business to take over, not far from their house. They would like me to get married and have children. They They don't understand why we want to see other things, to travel, to discover the world before settling down for good.
We exchange a knowing look before sighing with a smile on our lips. Parents' expectations are officially universal, no matter where you are on this earth. We talk for almost an hour before Tsai left me to go to meet some friends at the restaurant. A sincere first contact in a very enriching conversation. Even on the other side of the world, Tsai's concern still resonated in my head.
0sec
Description
I arrived in Taiwan on October 12, 2017, with disheveled hair, a tired look, but with the desire to learn more about the country and its people. This first episode retraces my journey from the airport to my hostel, making stops at street restaurants. It is also my first encounter and discussion with a Taiwanese person.
Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Transcription
For more than six months, I traveled to Taiwan, located in East Asia, in search of discovery and understanding of Taiwanese society. My primary goal was to get to know its people, their aspirations, their travels, their strengths, and their weaknesses. In order to guarantee the anonymity of the people I met, I voluntarily changed their identities. Keep your wings, le podcast. Chapter 1. A drop in the ocean. It was with trepidation that I landed early in the morning on October 12th 2017 at Taoyuan International Airport. It's one of Taiwan's three major airports. With a dry throat, numb feet, and disheveled hair, the blood vessel that irrigated my eyes had already abandoned me for several hours anyway. I was a curious spectacle for the custom officer, who seemed to be scrutinizing me from either side. As I left the plane, the strangest shiver had already run down my spine. I was the only European on board, the only white person. Very quickly, I understood that Taiwan was going to offer me a complete change of scenery, totally unlike anything I had already experienced. The signpost, the hubbub, the announcement crackling through the speakers constantly reminded me that the world I found myself in was going to be very different from the one I had left. I was no longer considered a tourist who wandered from bar to bar, from souvenir stalls to street restaurants. I was an anomaly among the inhabitants of this 35,883 per square kilometer island. I attracted attention. However, unlike many other countries I have visited, I was never mobbed by traders or street vendors. No one ever tried to sell me a scooter, questionable trinkets or even caps emblazoned with I love Taiwan. I understood that I was already part of this urban jungle, without being totally integrated into it. I had barely stepped outside when the excessive humidity, combined with the rain, fogged my glass in a matter of seconds. Trying in vain to wipe them away, a very plump man addresses me in Chinese. I try a few sentences in English to let him know that I I didn't understand what he was saying to me. It was a waste of effort. The man looked at me dazed, faced with his incomprehension. I decided to take out my cell phone and show him the address of my hostel. The man nodded at me. I was at the right bus stop. After about 20 minutes, a somewhat old-fashioned bus stopped in front of me. I showed my ticket to the driver and took a seat in the completely empty vehicle. The air conditioning did me a lot of good. It must be said that the temperature outside was around 30 degrees, despite the rain. On the bus that took me to Taipei Main Station, I had the opportunity to observe, through the pale windows, the landscape before me. What an astonishing contrast. Small street shops surrounded in the distance by mountains gradually transform over the miles into tall buildings and heavy traffic. It should be noted that Taipei, the capital, is the seventh city with the highest demographic density, with 15,200 inhabitants per square kilometer. In comparison, Brussels has only 2,200 inhabitants per square kilometer. Once disembarked, to my great surprise I managed to pronounce a few words in Mandarin that were understandable by the locals, who directed me to the metro station where I needed to reach my hostel. A bit like in Japan, people queue before entering the subway cars. The hustle and bustle so present in Belgium seemed to be banned from the daily habits of the population here. Very clean as well, the metro displayed strict instructions. It was strictly forbidden to drink, eat, chew gum, or even nibble nuts under penalty of fines. Unlike Japan, the subways in Taipei were very noisy. People laughed out loud, talked loudly, and didn't hesitate to greet each other, even on the other hand of the metro. However, one thing remained consistent. Most Taiwanese people had their eyes glued to their phones. I mean, I couldn't blame them, I was also glued to mine, almost forgetting that I didn't have any internet plan to help me find my way. It was only once I left the Shinihanghe station that my adventure truly began, punctuated by the incessant background noise caused by the heavy rains. I felt like my senses had been taken away from me. I heard, but I didn't understand. I read, but I didn't understand either. The language barrier was truly the first obstacle that I had to overcome as quickly as possible. Once settled in my hostel, I realized that I was at least three hours early for checking, and therefore, my room was still not ready. After leaving my bag, I set off in search of discoveries, too eager to explore this new playground. I rushed to the First Street restaurant in Taiwan. The smells quickly tickled my nostrils. Fried chicken, dumplings, beef noodle soup, grilled fish. Everything I loved in one place. It was a real buffet, where you chose your meat, fish, your vegetable accompaniment, mainly boiled. your hors d'oeuvre, oyster and tomato omelette, sweet potatoes or soups, as well as a portion of rice. Other street vendors offer a limited choice of food, but were almost much cheaper. Some made fried octopus, other dumplings, or even seafood noodle soup. Suffice it to say that everything was done to give the gourmand in me all the desires to eat. Only the oh-so-sickening smell of stinking tofu made me want to vomit every time it crossed my path. This was a broth to which pieces of tofu had been added, fermented for several months, a must for local, a pestilential smell for me. At first, I thought a pipe had been cut before realizing that it was indeed food from a street vendor. However, fatigue, lack of vocabulary and terrible weather did not allow me to take advantage of all my desire for exploration. I then... decided to turn back, shortly before my room was finally ready. The space inn was a space-themed hostel. The pink and purple lights gave the appearance of a lunar station. The doors emitted a "pschiit" when open, and the lockers were only unlocked via a badge emitting a shrill sound straight out of a video game. The kid in me was exultant. After taking a shower and dropping off all my things, I tried to get to know several people in my hostel. However, with the language barriers still present, I was unable to establish real communication with them. I had to wait until my third day before meeting Tsai, a 20-year-old Taiwanese with a good level of English. With shoulder-length black hair, a cold good smile, and a pleasant face, he held all this end to me with a Where are you from? After passing the first replica facade, the ice quickly broke. Very spontaneously, we discussed very seriously. Nothing could have suggested that we would share the same concerns. A fact which was subsequently confirmed to me. The mask we all try to wear quickly breaks down abroad. We don't speak to impress the audience or seek some form of recognition. We seek to reassure ourselves by laying our cards directly on the table with our interlocutor. Tsai had been traveling between London and Taipei for over a year now.
I have a better future there,
he explained to me.
I work in finance and I earn enough money. more than I could get here.
Wasn't it too difficult to settle there?
At first, I had difficulty making ends meet. It's better now. I deprive myself a little, but it's what I like to do. It allowed me to be more independent, even if that's not what my parents were concerned about.
What scares them?
That I am far from them. They would have preferred that I found a small business to take over, not far from their house. They would like me to get married and have children. They They don't understand why we want to see other things, to travel, to discover the world before settling down for good.
We exchange a knowing look before sighing with a smile on our lips. Parents' expectations are officially universal, no matter where you are on this earth. We talk for almost an hour before Tsai left me to go to meet some friends at the restaurant. A sincere first contact in a very enriching conversation. Even on the other side of the world, Tsai's concern still resonated in my head.
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Description
I arrived in Taiwan on October 12, 2017, with disheveled hair, a tired look, but with the desire to learn more about the country and its people. This first episode retraces my journey from the airport to my hostel, making stops at street restaurants. It is also my first encounter and discussion with a Taiwanese person.
Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Transcription
For more than six months, I traveled to Taiwan, located in East Asia, in search of discovery and understanding of Taiwanese society. My primary goal was to get to know its people, their aspirations, their travels, their strengths, and their weaknesses. In order to guarantee the anonymity of the people I met, I voluntarily changed their identities. Keep your wings, le podcast. Chapter 1. A drop in the ocean. It was with trepidation that I landed early in the morning on October 12th 2017 at Taoyuan International Airport. It's one of Taiwan's three major airports. With a dry throat, numb feet, and disheveled hair, the blood vessel that irrigated my eyes had already abandoned me for several hours anyway. I was a curious spectacle for the custom officer, who seemed to be scrutinizing me from either side. As I left the plane, the strangest shiver had already run down my spine. I was the only European on board, the only white person. Very quickly, I understood that Taiwan was going to offer me a complete change of scenery, totally unlike anything I had already experienced. The signpost, the hubbub, the announcement crackling through the speakers constantly reminded me that the world I found myself in was going to be very different from the one I had left. I was no longer considered a tourist who wandered from bar to bar, from souvenir stalls to street restaurants. I was an anomaly among the inhabitants of this 35,883 per square kilometer island. I attracted attention. However, unlike many other countries I have visited, I was never mobbed by traders or street vendors. No one ever tried to sell me a scooter, questionable trinkets or even caps emblazoned with I love Taiwan. I understood that I was already part of this urban jungle, without being totally integrated into it. I had barely stepped outside when the excessive humidity, combined with the rain, fogged my glass in a matter of seconds. Trying in vain to wipe them away, a very plump man addresses me in Chinese. I try a few sentences in English to let him know that I I didn't understand what he was saying to me. It was a waste of effort. The man looked at me dazed, faced with his incomprehension. I decided to take out my cell phone and show him the address of my hostel. The man nodded at me. I was at the right bus stop. After about 20 minutes, a somewhat old-fashioned bus stopped in front of me. I showed my ticket to the driver and took a seat in the completely empty vehicle. The air conditioning did me a lot of good. It must be said that the temperature outside was around 30 degrees, despite the rain. On the bus that took me to Taipei Main Station, I had the opportunity to observe, through the pale windows, the landscape before me. What an astonishing contrast. Small street shops surrounded in the distance by mountains gradually transform over the miles into tall buildings and heavy traffic. It should be noted that Taipei, the capital, is the seventh city with the highest demographic density, with 15,200 inhabitants per square kilometer. In comparison, Brussels has only 2,200 inhabitants per square kilometer. Once disembarked, to my great surprise I managed to pronounce a few words in Mandarin that were understandable by the locals, who directed me to the metro station where I needed to reach my hostel. A bit like in Japan, people queue before entering the subway cars. The hustle and bustle so present in Belgium seemed to be banned from the daily habits of the population here. Very clean as well, the metro displayed strict instructions. It was strictly forbidden to drink, eat, chew gum, or even nibble nuts under penalty of fines. Unlike Japan, the subways in Taipei were very noisy. People laughed out loud, talked loudly, and didn't hesitate to greet each other, even on the other hand of the metro. However, one thing remained consistent. Most Taiwanese people had their eyes glued to their phones. I mean, I couldn't blame them, I was also glued to mine, almost forgetting that I didn't have any internet plan to help me find my way. It was only once I left the Shinihanghe station that my adventure truly began, punctuated by the incessant background noise caused by the heavy rains. I felt like my senses had been taken away from me. I heard, but I didn't understand. I read, but I didn't understand either. The language barrier was truly the first obstacle that I had to overcome as quickly as possible. Once settled in my hostel, I realized that I was at least three hours early for checking, and therefore, my room was still not ready. After leaving my bag, I set off in search of discoveries, too eager to explore this new playground. I rushed to the First Street restaurant in Taiwan. The smells quickly tickled my nostrils. Fried chicken, dumplings, beef noodle soup, grilled fish. Everything I loved in one place. It was a real buffet, where you chose your meat, fish, your vegetable accompaniment, mainly boiled. your hors d'oeuvre, oyster and tomato omelette, sweet potatoes or soups, as well as a portion of rice. Other street vendors offer a limited choice of food, but were almost much cheaper. Some made fried octopus, other dumplings, or even seafood noodle soup. Suffice it to say that everything was done to give the gourmand in me all the desires to eat. Only the oh-so-sickening smell of stinking tofu made me want to vomit every time it crossed my path. This was a broth to which pieces of tofu had been added, fermented for several months, a must for local, a pestilential smell for me. At first, I thought a pipe had been cut before realizing that it was indeed food from a street vendor. However, fatigue, lack of vocabulary and terrible weather did not allow me to take advantage of all my desire for exploration. I then... decided to turn back, shortly before my room was finally ready. The space inn was a space-themed hostel. The pink and purple lights gave the appearance of a lunar station. The doors emitted a "pschiit" when open, and the lockers were only unlocked via a badge emitting a shrill sound straight out of a video game. The kid in me was exultant. After taking a shower and dropping off all my things, I tried to get to know several people in my hostel. However, with the language barriers still present, I was unable to establish real communication with them. I had to wait until my third day before meeting Tsai, a 20-year-old Taiwanese with a good level of English. With shoulder-length black hair, a cold good smile, and a pleasant face, he held all this end to me with a Where are you from? After passing the first replica facade, the ice quickly broke. Very spontaneously, we discussed very seriously. Nothing could have suggested that we would share the same concerns. A fact which was subsequently confirmed to me. The mask we all try to wear quickly breaks down abroad. We don't speak to impress the audience or seek some form of recognition. We seek to reassure ourselves by laying our cards directly on the table with our interlocutor. Tsai had been traveling between London and Taipei for over a year now.
I have a better future there,
he explained to me.
I work in finance and I earn enough money. more than I could get here.
Wasn't it too difficult to settle there?
At first, I had difficulty making ends meet. It's better now. I deprive myself a little, but it's what I like to do. It allowed me to be more independent, even if that's not what my parents were concerned about.
What scares them?
That I am far from them. They would have preferred that I found a small business to take over, not far from their house. They would like me to get married and have children. They They don't understand why we want to see other things, to travel, to discover the world before settling down for good.
We exchange a knowing look before sighing with a smile on our lips. Parents' expectations are officially universal, no matter where you are on this earth. We talk for almost an hour before Tsai left me to go to meet some friends at the restaurant. A sincere first contact in a very enriching conversation. Even on the other side of the world, Tsai's concern still resonated in my head.
0sec
Description
I arrived in Taiwan on October 12, 2017, with disheveled hair, a tired look, but with the desire to learn more about the country and its people. This first episode retraces my journey from the airport to my hostel, making stops at street restaurants. It is also my first encounter and discussion with a Taiwanese person.
Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Transcription
For more than six months, I traveled to Taiwan, located in East Asia, in search of discovery and understanding of Taiwanese society. My primary goal was to get to know its people, their aspirations, their travels, their strengths, and their weaknesses. In order to guarantee the anonymity of the people I met, I voluntarily changed their identities. Keep your wings, le podcast. Chapter 1. A drop in the ocean. It was with trepidation that I landed early in the morning on October 12th 2017 at Taoyuan International Airport. It's one of Taiwan's three major airports. With a dry throat, numb feet, and disheveled hair, the blood vessel that irrigated my eyes had already abandoned me for several hours anyway. I was a curious spectacle for the custom officer, who seemed to be scrutinizing me from either side. As I left the plane, the strangest shiver had already run down my spine. I was the only European on board, the only white person. Very quickly, I understood that Taiwan was going to offer me a complete change of scenery, totally unlike anything I had already experienced. The signpost, the hubbub, the announcement crackling through the speakers constantly reminded me that the world I found myself in was going to be very different from the one I had left. I was no longer considered a tourist who wandered from bar to bar, from souvenir stalls to street restaurants. I was an anomaly among the inhabitants of this 35,883 per square kilometer island. I attracted attention. However, unlike many other countries I have visited, I was never mobbed by traders or street vendors. No one ever tried to sell me a scooter, questionable trinkets or even caps emblazoned with I love Taiwan. I understood that I was already part of this urban jungle, without being totally integrated into it. I had barely stepped outside when the excessive humidity, combined with the rain, fogged my glass in a matter of seconds. Trying in vain to wipe them away, a very plump man addresses me in Chinese. I try a few sentences in English to let him know that I I didn't understand what he was saying to me. It was a waste of effort. The man looked at me dazed, faced with his incomprehension. I decided to take out my cell phone and show him the address of my hostel. The man nodded at me. I was at the right bus stop. After about 20 minutes, a somewhat old-fashioned bus stopped in front of me. I showed my ticket to the driver and took a seat in the completely empty vehicle. The air conditioning did me a lot of good. It must be said that the temperature outside was around 30 degrees, despite the rain. On the bus that took me to Taipei Main Station, I had the opportunity to observe, through the pale windows, the landscape before me. What an astonishing contrast. Small street shops surrounded in the distance by mountains gradually transform over the miles into tall buildings and heavy traffic. It should be noted that Taipei, the capital, is the seventh city with the highest demographic density, with 15,200 inhabitants per square kilometer. In comparison, Brussels has only 2,200 inhabitants per square kilometer. Once disembarked, to my great surprise I managed to pronounce a few words in Mandarin that were understandable by the locals, who directed me to the metro station where I needed to reach my hostel. A bit like in Japan, people queue before entering the subway cars. The hustle and bustle so present in Belgium seemed to be banned from the daily habits of the population here. Very clean as well, the metro displayed strict instructions. It was strictly forbidden to drink, eat, chew gum, or even nibble nuts under penalty of fines. Unlike Japan, the subways in Taipei were very noisy. People laughed out loud, talked loudly, and didn't hesitate to greet each other, even on the other hand of the metro. However, one thing remained consistent. Most Taiwanese people had their eyes glued to their phones. I mean, I couldn't blame them, I was also glued to mine, almost forgetting that I didn't have any internet plan to help me find my way. It was only once I left the Shinihanghe station that my adventure truly began, punctuated by the incessant background noise caused by the heavy rains. I felt like my senses had been taken away from me. I heard, but I didn't understand. I read, but I didn't understand either. The language barrier was truly the first obstacle that I had to overcome as quickly as possible. Once settled in my hostel, I realized that I was at least three hours early for checking, and therefore, my room was still not ready. After leaving my bag, I set off in search of discoveries, too eager to explore this new playground. I rushed to the First Street restaurant in Taiwan. The smells quickly tickled my nostrils. Fried chicken, dumplings, beef noodle soup, grilled fish. Everything I loved in one place. It was a real buffet, where you chose your meat, fish, your vegetable accompaniment, mainly boiled. your hors d'oeuvre, oyster and tomato omelette, sweet potatoes or soups, as well as a portion of rice. Other street vendors offer a limited choice of food, but were almost much cheaper. Some made fried octopus, other dumplings, or even seafood noodle soup. Suffice it to say that everything was done to give the gourmand in me all the desires to eat. Only the oh-so-sickening smell of stinking tofu made me want to vomit every time it crossed my path. This was a broth to which pieces of tofu had been added, fermented for several months, a must for local, a pestilential smell for me. At first, I thought a pipe had been cut before realizing that it was indeed food from a street vendor. However, fatigue, lack of vocabulary and terrible weather did not allow me to take advantage of all my desire for exploration. I then... decided to turn back, shortly before my room was finally ready. The space inn was a space-themed hostel. The pink and purple lights gave the appearance of a lunar station. The doors emitted a "pschiit" when open, and the lockers were only unlocked via a badge emitting a shrill sound straight out of a video game. The kid in me was exultant. After taking a shower and dropping off all my things, I tried to get to know several people in my hostel. However, with the language barriers still present, I was unable to establish real communication with them. I had to wait until my third day before meeting Tsai, a 20-year-old Taiwanese with a good level of English. With shoulder-length black hair, a cold good smile, and a pleasant face, he held all this end to me with a Where are you from? After passing the first replica facade, the ice quickly broke. Very spontaneously, we discussed very seriously. Nothing could have suggested that we would share the same concerns. A fact which was subsequently confirmed to me. The mask we all try to wear quickly breaks down abroad. We don't speak to impress the audience or seek some form of recognition. We seek to reassure ourselves by laying our cards directly on the table with our interlocutor. Tsai had been traveling between London and Taipei for over a year now.
I have a better future there,
he explained to me.
I work in finance and I earn enough money. more than I could get here.
Wasn't it too difficult to settle there?
At first, I had difficulty making ends meet. It's better now. I deprive myself a little, but it's what I like to do. It allowed me to be more independent, even if that's not what my parents were concerned about.
What scares them?
That I am far from them. They would have preferred that I found a small business to take over, not far from their house. They would like me to get married and have children. They They don't understand why we want to see other things, to travel, to discover the world before settling down for good.
We exchange a knowing look before sighing with a smile on our lips. Parents' expectations are officially universal, no matter where you are on this earth. We talk for almost an hour before Tsai left me to go to meet some friends at the restaurant. A sincere first contact in a very enriching conversation. Even on the other side of the world, Tsai's concern still resonated in my head.
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