far but familiar
love through abundances + a letter from taiwan
For the past few weeks, I’ve been living on the other side of the globe in a rather contained and unexpectedly complex social system consisting of almost constant exclusive companionship by members of my direct and extended family. Life was very different; every day, there were many interesting things to look at and to ponder about. As with most travels, average street corners and mundane moments became a little more remarkable.
But traveling to China has always felt particularly important, like a pilgrimage of sorts to a sacred birthplace - not mine, just A birthplace, maybe of my ancestors or something obvious like that, and the provenance of a culture that I feel inevitably obligated to. That’s why on the plane there, I felt a little anxious to be going somewhere so far away, but that is ostensibly familiar. In reality, China has changed drastically since I last visited - I felt the authoritarian tightening, noted the constant surveillance, and heard firsthand about the economic slowdown. I worry about what this will mean for the future of the culture and people I am so naturally tied to.
This time, we had one main purpose: to visit and spend time with relatives. I haven’t seen these relatives in several years; I’ve missed a lot of their defining moments, and they’ve missed mine, so I doubted they really understood me for who I am. But they’ve always been good to me and my memory of them extends as far back as I can remember. So there was a weird sensation like I was going home or at least going “back” (in time?), and it makes so much sense when I think about how the Chinese word for family and home is the same (家).
Celebrating Lunar New Year in Shenzhen was textured by several days of the sporadic crackling of fireworks set off from the streets; the perusing of flower markets and strolls through ocean-side parks with similar-sounding names; the excessive eating and hours spent playing cards and mahjong; the navigating of awkward exchanges when giving and receiving red envelopes, of being part of the working population, but unmarried, one of the younger generation, but not the youngest.
My family in Shenzhen is getting larger as more and more distant relatives move to the city and with the addition of JYF’s wife and one-month old son. Thus, I held a baby for the first time and he was cuter than I expected! The other notable addition to the family is JYF’s cat, which is now being taken care of by my aunt, because JYF’s wife and wife’s family thought that the cat would be bad for the baby. I thought this was kind of ironic and funny because the baby reminded me a bit of the cat, which I know is a terrible comparison. But when the cat and the baby were in the same room, everyone would talk to the cat in this high-pitched, loving tone and then talk to the baby in the same way. The cat didn’t really have a name - everyone would just call him “Meow”, and the point is made when my aunt accidentally lovingly meowed at the baby, with the cat sitting a couple of meters away.
People here show their love through abundances, like the seven chickens in my aunt’s fridge and the boxes of fruits, pastries, and grains gifted around especially during the lunar new year. I observed how much my family here is loved by the excessive amount of goods and phone calls received during the holiday, and I felt their love for me in the same form. For example, the eight boiled eggs grandpa gave us to take to the airport when we left and the $12 strawberries and coconut milk grandma insisted to be bought for us in spite of the already overspilling fridge. No matter how much I ate, grandma would tell me to eat more, presenting a never-ending stream of homemade dishes and local snacks in front of me. My heart aches a little to know that their love in abundances is a reflection of luxuries they didn’t always have. But just as the fridge was overspilling and my stomach overfilling, I was overwhelmed by it all when I think about how finite our time together is.
Every time I visit them, grandpa asks me if I know how old he is, and I think he asks just to remind me of such. So I’ve come to count the time between trips by how old he has become (previously 85, now turning 90). I feel that everyone here is the same as in my memory of them, but then it feels wrong to have my memory of them in recent years be made up of occasional photos and infrequent video calls rather than shared experiences. Regardless, this time I witnessed in person how my aunt stopped wearing the brightly colored suits I used to associate her with; how HY doesn’t fight with her anymore; how grandpa walks slower in little stiff steps, a consequence of his recent surgery; how I have to yell now for grandma to be able to hear. Leaving is never as bittersweet as it is with this family because while I know I will visit again, I do not know how soon it will be and if when I do it will be enough to live up to the abundant and overflowing love they give me. Thus every moment together felt all that more important, and I wanted to ingrain it all in memory forever.
More ounces:
a playlist i prepared for the journey with some of my fav taiwanese & chinese artists (good for chill mornings & afternoons)
lots on china’s current outlook and sociopolitical trends in dan wang’s 2023 letter
this story on the importance of discovering and living where you’re supposed to be
letter from taiwan
Dear ounce,
Hello from hualien! We arrived a few days ago and it’s not exactly the picturesque beautiful beach town I imagined. Instead, it’s more like an awkward, slightly old and neglected (perhaps vintage?) town on the east coast of taiwan. What bothers me is not the unexpected initial drab of the town but that I feel like coming here with the parents is hindering my ability to fully discover and appreciate its potential beauty.
Mother and father seem to think this is just a small underdeveloped town that doesn’t have much worth visiting for tourists like us. It’s been hard to convince them to step away from the traveler mindset and just join me on this vacation, where there’s no need to have some landmark or sight we must visit. My biggest takeaway so far is one that I should’ve realized earlier - some travels are meant to be treated differently. I have been selfish and overly ambitious this time around - wanting to walk everywhere, visit cafes, “experience life” in a new place, spend time documenting but also spend time together.
But still hualien is quite endearing, and in general, taiwan has been lovely, although very very rainy. Up until yesterday, I was basically living in the full-length bright blue raincoat we purchased outside yehliu. It didn’t help much though, and everything felt wet for a few days - my pants, shoes, face, hands, toes, etc. The dampness contributed to or maybe just amplified the overall impression I’m getting of taiwan, which is mellow and vaguely wistful. Even the cats have the same temperament, laying leisurely on the streets and motorbikes in houtong and shifen. People seem to take their time and savor the little things in life. I think you would like it.
love, oz
