How Taiwan won the hearts of my American kids

“I don’t like Chinese,” announced my 8-year-old. (Ironically, in Chinese. That softened the blow.)

I knew this day would come, when my American-born, half-Taiwanese children would reject the language and culture I’d worked so hard to teach them. Time to visit the motherland and win them back.

How do you appeal to the hearts of  8- and 12-year-old boys? Unsanctioned time away from school, homework free. Frittering away money at night market games. The cross-cultural allure of amusement parks.

Over 16 fulfilling days, my boys and I explored Taipei, Hualien, Kaohsiung, Tainan and Chiayi, a full loop around the itty-bitty island nation where I was born. Taiwan is about the size of Maryland, and you can drive from tip to tip in 5.5 hours. I wanted my kids to see it all … while it’s still here.

The darkest part of my soul can’t help worrying about the unthinkable. Taiwan and China have been dancing around war since 1949. No one thought Russia would invade Ukraine for real either. The difference is, unlike Ukraine, only a dozen other teeny tiny nations officially recognize Taiwan’s sovereignty. And Taiwan is surrounded by water. There’s no place to flee.

With Ukraine heavy on my mind, I took my kids to experience everything in their country of heritage.

We spent most of our time in the capital city of Taipei, where I lived the first four years of my life. From the top of Taipei’s tallest skyscraper, you can see the metropolis hugging the folds of green mountains. From street level, the city is a warren of alleys crammed with scooters and burglar bars over every window. The mosquitoes are relentless.

On our island circuit, we dug our toes into the beaches of Kenting, hiked in the Taroko Gorge, caught the sunrise at Alishan with mugs of hot cocoa in hand.

No one believed these American kids could speak the language. They’d test, asking Mandarin: “When’s your birthday?” My boys laughed their heads off, and I savored a smug mom moment.

We operated mostly as stealth tourists, because we speak Mandarin and more or less look the part. Except for the waiter who looked my boys up and down and tilted his head. “Mixed blood?” Busted. Taiwanese people are friendly in that no-filter, New Yorker sort of way.

More clues to our outsider status: Wearing shorts and a T-shirt, when everyone else is bundled in puffy coats. (In 85 degree weather, I’m not kidding.) Walking around with giant bottles of ice water. Taiwanese people will drink tea, bubble tea, juice — anything but cold water. Or asking for a fork. Worst case scenario, I fed my much-too-old kids with chopsticks like baby birds.

Americans come in all colors and shapes; the Taiwanese are much more homogenous. The drugstore’s makeup aisle offers foundation in exactly three shades: light, lighter, lightest. Forget clothes shopping. My American women’s size medium translated into a Taiwanese 5XL.

Wrapped in security

Growing up, anytime someone asked the Where are you really from? question, I’d say, “I was born in Taiwan,” which is accurate. Half the time, I’d hear back, “Thailand?”

Or I’d say: “My grandparents are from China.” Also accurate. I didn’t feel right claiming Taiwanese nationality when I don’t speak the Taiwanese dialect.

In the hours before our red-eye to Taiwan, self-doubt and panic crept up like bile. The trip would be a whirlwind of meeting extended family who’d only ever seen my boys on Facebook posts.

“Headed to the airport in a bit. Full of misgivings now,” I texted a Taiwanese friend. “What did I get myself into? We haven’t even left yet and I can feel the weight of my relatives’ criticism on me.”

Her response: “Well, you wanted your kids to be exposed to the culture. Having judgmental and controlling elders stressing you out is part of Taiwanese culture.”

A big family means drama and feuds all around. The flip side is we were wrapped with security everywhere we went. In Taiwanese culture, everyone older than you is an auntie or uncle, everyone younger is a little sister or brother. Even if you’re not blood related. Even if you’re just an acquaintance. Or a passer-by on the MRT.

I even accepted unmarked meds from a stranger on the bus, with gratitude. A kind grandma (not biological grandma, just a random older lady) fished pills out of her purse for my car sick kid.

Taiwan is exceptionally safe 24/7: pre-dawn, late at night, in deserted side streets, in shoulder-to-shoulder crowds. A mom traveling alone with 2 kids? No problem. We never felt vulnerable, not for a second. Sorry Charles Sun, in real-life Taiwan, violent crime is virtually unheard of.

I wanted my boys to fall in love with their heritage, and nip that “I don’t like Chinese” mindset in the bud. I’m claiming victory.

Because after their first taste of Taiwan, the kids changed their tune. They said to me (in Mandarin): "Taiwan is so, so fun!  When are we going back?”

This article was originally published on TODAY.com