Motherland, Day 4: Drama and a 10-course dinner

Well, you can't stick a group of women together without some drama, especially when they are crammed three to a room. I think because I am somewhat an outsider, some people have felt more comfortable confiding in me. It's flattering but also frustrating because I am anti-drama in my own life.

Anyway, everything worked out. We got a new room and now I only have one roommate (woo-hoo!). It was just a lot to take care of today.

The reflexologist came and presented to our class this morning. I have an individual appointment with him tomorrow evening, and now I'm freaked out. They call it foot "massage," which might be a stretch. There is a three-pronged tool involved and a lot of poking and knuckles pushing into spots in the foot.

Tonight, we were treated to dinner at a Japanese restaurant, Ichiro. It was the fanciest, most beautiful and amazing dinner I have ever had. The hospitality and generosity of our Taiwanese hosts is humbling.

I also had a chance to talk to the woman who organized our trip. She asked my story, and I shared. She seemed particularly interested when she learned I was descended of native Taiwanese; specifically the Amis. She said I should be proud of my Amis heritage. She said the culture is matrilineal -- run by women :) So it is unlikely, she thought, that I would have been placed for adoption because of being a girl. She did mention that back in that period, sometimes young Amis girls were sold into prostitution by family members. That could jive with information someone told me long ago that my birth mother may have been a prostitute.

Tomorrow, before I visit the foot doctor, I am headed to meet the intermediary who works for the Child and Juvenile Adoption Information Center. I feel so spoiled and flattered at the same time -- two new Taiwanese friends are going to accompany me to this meeting. I don't know if there will be any new information, but maybe she will give me names or something.

All in all, another good day.

Motherland, Day 3: Solo exploration

Yesterday was so draining, I opted to indulge in alone time today. The architecture in Taipei is an eclectic mix. Slums next to condos that look like they could belong on the Champs Elysee, art deco here and there, along with sleek high rise businesses.

Wandering on foot, I ended up on a main roadway that had mechanics shops and even a gas station. Eventually, I ran right into Dongmen Station, which happened to be featured on the cover of my tourist map. It abuts the Yongkang Street commercial district. I stopped in a tea store and an antique store and a little snack market. The best find, though, was a bookstore. I enjoyed browsing the magazine section.

A funny thing happened when I stopped to order bubble tea. The sales person, upon figuring out I didn't speak Mandarin, began to speak English to me. He raised his voice and exaggerated the sounds -- like you might do for a hearing impaired person. I have observed that in the U.S., for example, when people speak to individuals for whom English is a second language. Not sure how yelling improves comprehension, though .... especially when you're yelling in my language.

I tried to get a phone today. Huge disappointment. Long story short -- AT&T and Apple blow. My iPhone is locked and won't work with a pay-as-you-go Taiwan SIM card.

I walked off my disappointment, heading east and then turning south down a main thoroughfare with wide, tree lined sidewalks. I saw rows and rows of bicycles that turned out to be in front of two schools. The bikes got progressively smaller in front of the elementary school. Then I realized there was a huge beautiful park across the street. Even though I was getting pretty tired, I really wanted to check it out. I'm glad I did. It was such a peaceful oasis in the middle of the city. No rushing. People just strolling or sitting on benches. I saw several professional-looking photographers; I wonder if it's a popular spot for shoots.

At our "process time" this evening, we talked about sticking out. Today I made tremendous progress in feeling comfortable here. When I wanted to blend in, I would simply respond to the sales people with "hi," which is common here. When I wanted to avoid the awkward one-sided Mandarin exchanges, I would say "hello" when I entered a store. That is not common, and let them know immediately I did not speak their language. This helped me feel more in control of my identity -- at least helping to manage people's expectations of me.

Today I stretched my legs -- literally and figuratively -- and it felt good.

Yongkang Street

Children at Da'an Park

Motherland, Day 2: Making friends

Today started kind of slow for me. Even on the other side of the world, I am still not a morning person. And being a non-morning person in a group of 20 up-and-at-em types was pretty overwhelming. We went to the National Palace Museum. The museum was crowded. The artifacts were interesting, but it was hard being part of a group tour and not being able to browse like I would prefer. The crowds were not as bad as Versailles, but it was enough to discourage me from staying the rest of the afternoon.

Instead, I joined a group headed to Tamsui. Best decision I could have made! We had five Taiwanese student escorts -- they were delightful. I didn't catch all of their names, but their accompaniment was so comforting -- and entertaining!

My first impression of Tamsui was that it was beautiful -- perhaps even more because of the misty day. The river runs along one side. The mountains on across the river were capped by clouds. On the other side is a huge market! I tried so many new foods today. I had quail eggs, fried squid, candied tomatoes, fried mushrooms, and a couple of Tamsui specialties: Ah Gei and iron eggs.

On the train from Tamsui back to Gutang, I ended up standing with all the Taiwanese students. It was interesting to learn about their families -- how many kids, what their parents did, where they grew up. Somehow the discussion evolved to gender roles and cultural expectations in Taiwan. It was really fascinating to dig a little deeper, to find out what their hopes were -- particularly the female students.

Walking back to our lodgings, someone pointed out a chops shop. The next thing I knew, I was whisked into the shop and five people were helping me choose a name and chop for Miss M! I chose a name that sounds like Mei Rei. Mei is "plum," literally, but it means resilience -- it's the national plant for the country and is apparently able to grow in many conditions. The particular Rei I chose means "heart of the flower." My daughter completes my heart, and I look forward to seeing how she blossoms.

I thought choosing a name would be the hardest part; I didn't realize how many other choices go into selecting a chop. I could not have done it without the guidance of my new Taiwanese friends. If only I could remember their names! Tomorrow I will have to ask them to write them down for me. I just cannot remember things I hear, particularly in a different language!

Candied strawberries and tomatoes

Tamsui market

Motherland, Day 1: Foreign and familiar

We landed at midnight after 30 hours of travel. In the dark, Taipei didn't seem too different from other cities, except that the signage was in English and Mandarin. It's interesting that my eye was drawn to the English, which made the Mandarin characters seem like decorative graphic elements, instead of the primary navigation they were intended.

We awoke to an overcast, rainy day. More mist than rain. It is damp here.

I couldn't be traveling with kinder people. All of these counselors-in-training are so attentive to other people's feelings. I feel selfish whenever I share; like I should be drawing them out instead. The journalist in me wants to get everyone else's story, but I can't deny how powerful my feelings about this trip are.

This morning was so exciting. Something about big cities invigorates me. We walked several blocks trying to find a bank to exchange money, but they were closed because it was Saturday. People try to talk to me in Mandarin, and I don't understand it. I feel out of place and nerdy and fat ... very uncool. I have never seen so many hip Asians!

All my life I've felt like I stuck out. Browner, shorter, rounder-faced ... Finally I am in a place where I blend in. But I still don't fit in. It's a strange feeling.

I had a lovely conversation with a young man at the CD store this morning. As soon as he realized I didn't speak Mandarin, he said he would try to speak English with me. It was clear he was a little nervous about his English, but we both soon relaxed, and I really enjoyed chatting with him about his studies (which included reading about FLSA in English!). He picked out four CDs for me. The first was his favorite, the second was what was playing at the time, the third was an aboriginal singer from Hualien County, and the fourth is for Miss M.

I left the CD store feeling invigorated and excited about Taiwan. But I started wearing down that afternoon. I walked down Shi Da and stopped in a few stores. Each time the salesperson tried to speak Mandarin to me. When I indicated I didn't quite understand, they would repeat themselves. I tried smiling and nodding, but it only seemed to encourage them to keep going! I felt so dumb. I don't know why I felt ashamed to tell them I was American and didn't understand what they were saying. So many people here speak English, and I couldn't even remember how to say "excuse me" in Mandarin.

This evening, we encountered a housekeeper. She informed us she is Venezuelan and has been in Taiwan 25 years. I felt a surge of elation, and said "hola!" It was so exciting to be able to communicate -- minimally! -- with someone. Then she was talking to me more, and I couldn't understand a word of what she was saying. There was a lot of background noise, and I thought she was speaking Spanish. I just smiled and nodded. She leaned closer and repeated it. I smiled and nodded, even though I still couldn't understand. It was only later, when she said "Chinese OK?" that I figured out she had been speaking Mandarin, and she realized I didn't know the language. It was embarrassing to have to explain.

Walking around, I was surprised to see so many American brands. I knew Starbucks was everywhere, but I didn't expect to see a Pizza Hut with insulated cases on the backs of delivery scooters. I also didn't expect to see so many stores selling Converse, Eccos and even Clarks.

Tonight in our group therapy (aka "process time") we talked about wanting to fit in/not wanting to stand out, and accessibility (i.e. finding a restaurant with pictures you can point to). It's nice to know I'm not the only one who wants to be cool in a foreign place. It's something to think about when I return home -- how can I make visitors, especially international ones, feel welcome in my world?

Dear Miss M

This week, you learned how to climb out of your crib. Actually, I'm surprised it took this long. You've been physically able to do it for awhile (throwing your leg over the rail and threatening to escape), but you have a healthy sense of caution that, I think, prevented you from taking the plunge sooner.

I'm thankful for your caution, as I hope it will save us trips to the emergency room as you get older. But I also hope that, as your mother, I can create a strong enough sense of safety and security so that you are not afraid to take risks in life.

Next month, I'm taking one of the biggest risks of my life to date. (Marrying your father and choosing to be your mother were probably the other two, but those are stories for another day.) In the new year, I will travel to Taiwan. I want to learn more about the people and the culture and the food, of course. But also, when I arrive, I will be meeting with a woman from the Child and Juvenile Adoption Center, who I hope may have more information about the circumstances of my adoption.

Choosing to search for information has been so scary, and yet, it is from you that I have gathered the strength to proceed. I've never felt connected to anyone the way I feel with you. Through you, I am learning to love myself. I see myself in you, and I am endeared to you. And I can't help wondering from whom we both inherited our eyes, our hands, our goofiness and our love of music.

I know as you grow up, you will become different from me, despite our shared genetics. It's a certainty not only because I see my strong-willed, independent nature in you, but also because I am determined for your childhood to be different from mine.

Of course, half of your genes are inherited from your father, who also couldn't be more different from me. We opposites attracted and, somehow, we were gifted with you. I hope you will inherit his ability to enjoy life in each moment. And I hope you inherit his ability to love because his unconditional, accepting love transformed my life and created yours.

In a few years, when you're old enough to understand, I hope that your dad and you and me can travel back to Taiwan as a family. I want you to be proud of me and where I came from. I want you to feel secure in your identity. I want you to have roots and, most important, wings.