Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Last Sunday, my roommate came home with an authentic, turkey and avocado sandwich. She offered me a bite and I was immediately reminded of my old life; a life where a sandwich like this was as common and beef noodles or fried rice is in Taiwan. I then realized that it had been about a year since I had had a decent sandwich. Since Sunday, I've had been craving my own.
I now sit at one of the two or three decent deli's/ markets in all of Taichung (a city of over a million) savoring my own overpriced, undersized turkey sandwich. I've come to call this deli the "2000 NT (60 USD) Store" because I've never been able to go in without spending about 2,000 dollars on various goodies.
As I stroll around the deli and stare at their array of comfort food (Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Kirkland soy milk, corn tortillas, Swiss cheese, the list could go on), I feel oddly depressed. During my first few months in Taiwan, these rare "Western Splurges" – meals at Friday's or even KFC- brought me an unimaginable amount of elation. I'd run in jumping up and down requesting half the items on the menu, smiling from ear to ear.
But these days, I seem to find it all depressing. I paw at my sandwich, but all knowing that I could have had it cheaper and better at home. I sip on my Corona but know that it will never replace a New Castle or a Sierra Nevada. I watch CNN in English, but know that I can't flip to American Idol or Sopranos (and I hated TV at home).
These crutches that foreigners use are supposed to bring us back home; they should bring us back to our respective comfort zones. But they tend to remind me of a home that I loved, a home that is ohh so far away, a home that doesn't exactly feel like home anymore. Looking at American cans and American jars and American candy with a simultaneous feeling of familiarity and surprise –
"Ohh I forgot about Swiss Miss", I have to ask myself…."When did it come to this?"
Paradoxical and contradictory… I know. Reminders of home have become reminders of homesickness for a place that we long to be but dread going back to. These small escapes from Taiwan aren't really helping us escape, but making us feel a little more trapped on a small island, where you can't drink the tap water or sufficiently speak the language.
Paradoxical, yet every foreigner everywhere reading this knows what I'm talking about.
Political and Economic theory talks a lot about "pushes" and "pulls", in regard to immigration. Countries like Mexico, India and Morocco "push" people while The US, the UK and Spain, respectively "pull" people in.
The dynamics of this are quite different when you have a majority of affluent people (the average foreigner in Taiwan) leaving affluent nations to come here. There are ex-pats here who came to escape drugs, poverty, unemployment or basements in their parents' house. But I'd say the majority, like myself, came to escape boredom, they came because they were curious.
The wanderer's heart has a collection of memories and experiences where the average person has empty holes. People that have been through these experiences will forever have a special bond that others won't understand. But the wanderer's heart also has rips and tears that will never heal.
God knows none of us will ever go home and see a 7-11, a garbage truck or a motor scooter quite the same. And all of us will have a new tear brewing, no matter where we end up on the map. Maybe we'll stay here, but we'll all miss something. Maybe we'll go home, but we'll all miss something.
As I finish my Snapple and take the last few bites of my sandwich, I can't help but think of the countless foreigners in Beijing, in Tokyo and Buenos Aires, also trying to find a piece of their own heart in an overpriced, less than perfect meal form home. I can't help but think of the Chinese people across the world settling for overpriced, less than perfect beef noodles. I can't help but think of the Mexicans finding tears as they go to sleep in Oklahoma or the Turk in Germany, shedding a tear in an imperfect mosque.
Millions of people across the world feel political, economic or just-plain desirous pushes and pulls to get them moving, but a very small percentage act on these forces. It's hard all over the world, and God knows that most have it harder than us. But that doesn't discount the fact that we have torn hearts.
No one deserves a medal for this, but it is something worth recognizing…
Last Sunday, my roommate came home with an authentic, turkey and avocado sandwich. She offered me a bite and I was immediately reminded of my old life; a life where a sandwich like this was as common and beef noodles or fried rice is in Taiwan. I then realized that it had been about a year since I had had a decent sandwich. Since Sunday, I've had been craving my own.
I now sit at one of the two or three decent deli's/ markets in all of Taichung (a city of over a million) savoring my own overpriced, undersized turkey sandwich. I've come to call this deli the "2000 NT (60 USD) Store" because I've never been able to go in without spending about 2,000 dollars on various goodies.
As I stroll around the deli and stare at their array of comfort food (Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Kirkland soy milk, corn tortillas, Swiss cheese, the list could go on), I feel oddly depressed. During my first few months in Taiwan, these rare "Western Splurges" – meals at Friday's or even KFC- brought me an unimaginable amount of elation. I'd run in jumping up and down requesting half the items on the menu, smiling from ear to ear.
But these days, I seem to find it all depressing. I paw at my sandwich, but all knowing that I could have had it cheaper and better at home. I sip on my Corona but know that it will never replace a New Castle or a Sierra Nevada. I watch CNN in English, but know that I can't flip to American Idol or Sopranos (and I hated TV at home).
These crutches that foreigners use are supposed to bring us back home; they should bring us back to our respective comfort zones. But they tend to remind me of a home that I loved, a home that is ohh so far away, a home that doesn't exactly feel like home anymore. Looking at American cans and American jars and American candy with a simultaneous feeling of familiarity and surprise –
"Ohh I forgot about Swiss Miss", I have to ask myself…."When did it come to this?"
Paradoxical and contradictory… I know. Reminders of home have become reminders of homesickness for a place that we long to be but dread going back to. These small escapes from Taiwan aren't really helping us escape, but making us feel a little more trapped on a small island, where you can't drink the tap water or sufficiently speak the language.
Paradoxical, yet every foreigner everywhere reading this knows what I'm talking about.
Political and Economic theory talks a lot about "pushes" and "pulls", in regard to immigration. Countries like Mexico, India and Morocco "push" people while The US, the UK and Spain, respectively "pull" people in.
The dynamics of this are quite different when you have a majority of affluent people (the average foreigner in Taiwan) leaving affluent nations to come here. There are ex-pats here who came to escape drugs, poverty, unemployment or basements in their parents' house. But I'd say the majority, like myself, came to escape boredom, they came because they were curious.
The wanderer's heart has a collection of memories and experiences where the average person has empty holes. People that have been through these experiences will forever have a special bond that others won't understand. But the wanderer's heart also has rips and tears that will never heal.
God knows none of us will ever go home and see a 7-11, a garbage truck or a motor scooter quite the same. And all of us will have a new tear brewing, no matter where we end up on the map. Maybe we'll stay here, but we'll all miss something. Maybe we'll go home, but we'll all miss something.
As I finish my Snapple and take the last few bites of my sandwich, I can't help but think of the countless foreigners in Beijing, in Tokyo and Buenos Aires, also trying to find a piece of their own heart in an overpriced, less than perfect meal form home. I can't help but think of the Chinese people across the world settling for overpriced, less than perfect beef noodles. I can't help but think of the Mexicans finding tears as they go to sleep in Oklahoma or the Turk in Germany, shedding a tear in an imperfect mosque.
Millions of people across the world feel political, economic or just-plain desirous pushes and pulls to get them moving, but a very small percentage act on these forces. It's hard all over the world, and God knows that most have it harder than us. But that doesn't discount the fact that we have torn hearts.
No one deserves a medal for this, but it is something worth recognizing…
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