Almost a year ago I left The United States without a concrete notion of what exactly I was looking for, but sustained by a strong will to simply go. I wasn't unhappy, I wasn't uncomfortable, but the life I lived that year was always supposed to be temporary. There was something kinetic within me that I did not want to ignore.
There were many summer nights in 2014 that I sat on the stark landscape of the school roof in Taiwan and questioned my choice in leaving. But, while I wondered what I was missing in Indiana, I understood that wondering about Taiwan would have cut me much deeper.
Like any year abroad, I've lived through a multitude of lessons (but probably only absorbed a collection of them) and have amassed ideas, values, and opinions from people as well as places. What I didn't expect, though, was to learn so much about my own sentiments toward my home country. I didn't expect to unveil a deep, raw affection for a culture I thought was lacking acceptable amounts of authenticity. And I didn't expect to unearth a buried yearning for its repose. But I did. Among several other discoveries, too.
1. American culture is a fairly ego-centric culture. Now, before anyone gets up in arms, I have met more compassionate individuals than selfish, and I believe they can be found in abundance. I'm not speaking of individuals. Our culture teaches and preaches independence, pride, and going your own way, all of which are valuable traits. But they breed an overall attitude of self-importance that conflicts with watchful accommodation of other people, groups, and entities. Taiwan abounds with familial and neighborly acquiescence, and actions towards others reveal a selfless dynamic originating from a desire to keep a person's reputation unsullied. I'm not convinced I could live that way, but it's opened my eyes to the notion that we are the culture we consume, and that America's places a high premium on "self."
2. "Honesty" in the United States is a funny thing. This elusive virtue increasingly contains more gray areas in today's society. I didn't need to leave America to know that. What I did learn from the placement of a Taiwanese lens over my face, however, was how subjective honesty is--not only to individuals, but within a people. If you're an American it's rude to call someone "large," or "fat," or "big." In Taiwan, it is simply a fact. It's not cruel or snarky, it simply remains an observation on someone's size, just as "thin," or "skinny," or "small" are all facts of measurement and not compliments. Taiwan owns some funny quirks in regards to honesty, too. Commenting on someone's recently dyed hair should always involve the adjectives "lighter" or "darker," not any hint of color. (Yes, I learned that one from personal experience.) So, honesty isn't really any less funny in Taiwan, but I never considered it a funny thing in America before now. Realizing first hand that it exists as a product of cultural practices and values proved eye-opening.
3. There is SO much to do in the USA. Popular ideology tells us that being "touristy" is frowned upon. This philosophy undoubtedly stems from valid reasoning and trying to suppress the overbearing tourist, but if being a long-term, light-treading tourist has taught me anything it's that getting out and seeing where you live is a great joy of life. I used to believe exploration involved far away destinations and exotic places, and it can, but there remain vast amounts of my own home I have yet to experience. I'm eager to return and discover corners of my home that I have yet to be acquainted with, and to augment my appreciation for the open spaces and hidden--or well-known--gems of the United States. Because there are an almost infinite amount between the coasts.
4. I love America. America is my home. I want to make one thing clear--I never hated America. I've always loved in it in some capacity, but living so completely separate from it for so long sheered away layers of disenchantment and exposed just how deep America is embedded in me. There exists a comfort within the boundaries of your home culture that I have yet to replicate in any other location. I've learned that culture is as cohesive and far-reaching as a water molecule. It unites easily and leaves nothing untouched, and while the challenge of living with-out the confines of convention will always be worthwhile, I will welcome the ease and peace waiting for me when my plane touches down in New York in a few short weeks. I am an American, and no amount of wanderlust, not curiosity will ever change that.
That being said, this past year has seen Taiwan become my temporary home. I've earned a plethora of gray hairs here, enjoyed the unwavering friendship of too many kind souls, and grasped enough important knowledge about myself to dub it anything less than a benign home that my heart will miss. The children I had the privilege of teaching--whom I have come to regard simply as "my kids"-- are tiny lights that I will feel the absence of most keenly. They will continue on in my memory as extraordinary examples of goodness, innocence, and mischief.
Coming home will be a transition, as it always is, but one that has already been rendered a bit easier by the attainment of an appealing new job, and choosing to return to a familiar place, with familiar faces (that I find myself more excited to see each passing day). I've been admonished to prepare for a healthy dose of reverse-culture shock, but I'm having a hard time envisioning an arduous adjustment period to a concept so familiar to me. I will concede, however, that I didn't arrive in Taiwan expecting to learn about America. So, perhaps it will only be during periods of reflection in America that I discover just how irrevocably a year in Taiwan changed me.
