Taiwanese Hospitality: A Humbling Experience – 好客

by Charles DeBenedetto

(An alley in Taipei. Photo Credit: 123rf.com)

“This is for you,” she says with a smile. She is a co-worker of mine, but I have not really spoken to her much before. I smiled with I saw that she was also taking her break in the coffee shop.

When she presented the small slice of cake, my first thought was that she must be indebted to me for some reason. “Why?” I ask stupidly.

She continues to smile. “No why. For you.”

I hesitate a moment before accepting it. “Thank you.”

* * *

I am lost in Taipei. I am a country boy in the big city for the first time in my young adult life. My clothes don’t fit quite right because I am afraid to spend money on new things. However, I do buy an MRT (subway) ticket, so I can see a new part of the city without having to drown in the still-too-powerful September Sun. My Mandarin skills are in their infancy, and I stare at the map for a long time. Taiwanese tourists glance briefly at it, and locals rush past it, using their internal navigation system like migratory birds.

Popping out, there is a sea of parasols bouncing above the sidewalk, and the Sun reflects off skyscrapers with blinding ferocity. I duck into alleyways full of knick-knack vendors and food carts, looking with big eyes. I painstakingly jot new Chinese characters into my notebook, glancing up at them and down at my notebook dozens of times to make sure they are correct. I decide to ask my professor about what they mean later. I am alone, because I prefer to follow my whim and discover at a slow, natural pace.

Eventually, after a full day of wandering, I wish to go home, but I do not see any MRT stations nearby. How many kilometers have I walked? I have no cell phone, no local friends, and limited ability to communicate. But these are the moments where you need to be brave and try, and you develop your skills as a result.

So I slowly meander, looking for the perfect stranger to ask for directions.

The muscular, tattooed man cleaving meat with a butcher knife? No, he is very engrossed in his work, I think to myself.

The old grandma in a wheelchair selling lottery tickets? No, she might only speak Taiwanese.

The tall, suit-wearing, briefcase-wielding man half-sprinting down the street, glancing at his watch every ten seconds? He probably speaks English, but he is too busy.

Finally, I walk into a corner store where an older woman in an apron is selling various charms and kitschy souvenirs. She is probably used to inquisitive foreigners, so I ask in the best Mandarin I can muster, “Excuse me…where is…the MRT station?”

She nods that she understood my broken words, and she immediately begins to address the other customers. “Everyone, please leave!” she orders, shooing them out of the shop, as, flabbergasted, I follow them out the door. She pulls an iron barrier down from the ceiling to lock up the shop, looks at me, and, smiling, says, “Okay, let’s go.”

I am stunned.

Robotically, my legs follow her while my brain is still processing what is happening. I am embarrassed, and I feel bad for inconveniencing her and her customers.

I don’t remember much of what she said, and I probably didn’t understand a lot either, but she was trying to tell me the names of streets, which station we were heading to, and how to navigate. About ten minutes later, we arrive at the station. The whole time we were walking I was trying to apologize to her, but she wouldn’t listen. After we arrive, she watches me go down the escalator and to the correct metro line before she heads back to re-open her shop.

* * *

In college, I had a professor who had recently returned from his first trip to Japan. He said, “Being the recipient of such kindness and hospitality was not what I deserved, because in my life I have not acted kind and hospitable toward others. Now that I have seen how the Japanese are so concerned with the well-being of others, I find that I am constantly checking myself.”

The same quote can be applied to the Taiwanese.

I should take a moment to acknowledge that my professor and I are most likely especially prone to be the recipient of Japanese/Taiwanese kindness because we are White. Unfortunately, White people are often adored simply for being White, and are showered with gifts and praise without having done anything to deserve that treatment. If I were Southeast Asian or Black, I would probably still be received well, but not to the same degree.

Just like my professor, seeing how the Japanese/Taiwanese people interact with each other and foreigners really does make me check myself. Many people have offered to pay for my meals over the years, but how often do I offer to pay for others? People have offered me small gifts for various occasions, big and small, but how many gifts have I given? Taiwanese people do thoughtful things for each other and for the foreigners who either visit or live here, but how many thoughtful things have I done for Taiwanese people?

The Taiwanese people set a high standard for how to interact with others, and, being a member of this society now, I can only hope that their positive example has changed me for the better.