Claudia Carroll (c) 2008
1000 Steps; An ESL Teaching Adventure in Taiwan
ISBN:978-0-557-03101-6
Excerpt 1. Please stretch the screen to optimize the photos.
Yongding Village, Taiwan: September, 2006: 
Today is my first day with the teachers at Yongding School, site of my mountain top teaching experience for this coming year. What I’ve learned thus far: I will get fit. Ability to climb stairs, thousands of them, ought to be a priority for a year in a rural area of Taiwan.
I am preparing for classes which will begin on Wednesday. The principal, Amy, gave me a teacup inscribed to memorialize this location in Taiwan, Yongding Village and surrounding areas, for their growing of tea. A teacher gifted me with a candle log in a metal holder, “for your new home.”
MY APARTMENT AT YONGDING (c. 2006 CJ Carroll)
My “home” is, for the year, a lovely two bedroom, furnished, 3rd floor apartment, on the school campus. Another teacher gave me a matching amber bowl, cup and beautiful pair of wooden chopsticks.
The young male teacher, Guan, whose desk is next to mine, gave me a set, in a metal case, of steel chopsticks and two spoons. And yet another gift from principal Amy, sheets and a comforter for my bed.
SAN FRANCISCO TROLLEY (c. 2007, CJ Carroll)
I left from the San Francisco, California airport, with a tourist visa, and a pre-paid, e-ticket arranged by Footprints Recruiting, the Canadian ESL recruitment agency I’d signed on with. My contract, and all details were handled by the agency, dealing directly with the Ministry of Education in Taiwan, and in this, I felt secure.
I had secured my tourist visa in San Francisco, filling in the form to indicate I was visiting someone in Taiwan for three months. Once in Taiwan, the agency assured me, the school would make arrangements for my working visa, since they needed that, legally, as much as I did.
Few of the on-line recruitment agents I’d investigated offered much attention to details. Once hired, I’d heard, you were often “on your own.” But with Footprints Recruiting, I received a carefully defined contract, a guaranteed salary and good benefits.
In addition to round trip airfare, I would receive a free apartment, medical insurance, and a monthly salary, sufficient enough to provide for both a considerable savings, and a long-desired visit to France, since I would receive several paid holidays, and a three week winter holiday, which I had already planned to take in Paris.
My salary, I was told, would be deposited directly into an easily accessible account each month.
I’d been anxious about the living arrangements though. “Apartment provided” could mean sharing with other teachers, living in an area near or distant from the school location, or in my case, on the home-school campus itself. But I’d lucked out by being given my own no-sharing-required, apartment. Hoping to spend evenings continuing my writing projects, I was glad I would be alone.
The decision to accept the teaching offer required a lot of adjustments; an apartment and car to be concerned about, a visa to obtain, what to pack. And then, knowing this special year would go by quickly, I had to consider what I would do and where I would live when I returned. I suspected this latter issue might be easier for younger teachers, who might have family or room-mates, girl-friends or guy-friends, back in the states. But, as an older, single woman, I’d have to start all over again.
Finally though, everything was taken care of. My brother-in-law would keep my car, and I would keep my apartment. My visa application at the Taiwan Consulate in San Francisco was approved in a day. And the e-ticket arrived online.
At the San Francisco airport, still in awe of the fact that I was really going to Taiwan only 3 months after I’d applied, I’d mistakenly waited in the business travelers’ lane, talking to a young man from Taiwan. When I, the third person up, arrived at the counter the attendant just smiled, accepted my apology, took my bags, and I was done.
On the plane, I was relieved to find that, with an injured ankle and knee, I was assigned a seat in the EVA plane's escape area, next to Kevin, a lanky young man from the U.S who was headed, not to Taiwan, but back to Thailand to open a restaurant. Well over six feet tall, his legs were too long for the regular seats.
We both were excited to be going to a new adventure to Asia. The airline food was great, with both Asian and U.S. style food choices, and it seemed we were being fed and offered beverages every hour or so.
I transferred planes in Thailand, receiving VIP treatment because I carried my handmade walking stick. I didn’t really need it for my knee injury, but flying gave me such vertigo, that walking around after landing, I was likely to be mistaken for a drunk!
The Thai airline hosts and hostesses were so professionally dressed; the men in suits, and the women with long dresses and lavender banners across their chests, orchids in their hair. Greeting us at the door, hands together in a mode of respect, they bowed, and welcomed us onto the plane.
At the Taiwan airport, twelve hours later after leaving California, I easily found my baggage and loaded it onto a FREE cart. I made my way to the immigration line, and with my passport in hand, was through that process in a few moments. Then, I headed toward the waiting area, feeling a little like a bag-lady with my carrying cart packed with three suitcases. I looked around, wondering if I’d see someone holding a sign with my name on it then laughed at myself. I was the only blond getting off the plane, as easy to spot as if I’d been wearing neon.
FIVE NEW TAIWAN FRIENDS: Stephan, Jay, Teddy, Amy, Amy's husband, Jackie.
(c. 2006 CJ Carroll)
Suddenly, I was surrounded by several smiling, friendly people. Apparently, the whole administrative staff of my home school, Yongding Elementary, had come to meet me.
Amy, the school principal, her husband, and Teddy, the young academics coordinator I'd exchanged e-mails with, and Jay, and Stephen. I would discover later that while Teddy, Jay and Stephen all had administrative duties, they also taught: Jay, computer and media classes, Stephan, music. Teddy had taught English at the school for five years.
Amy, in her forties, slim, with short brown, professionally coiffed hair, looked lovely, and cool, at 5 a.m. in the morning! The heat hit me in the face like a blast furnace: 85 degrees and humid, and I was already drooping from the long flight from San Francisco. I was wearing a long skirt and a tee-shirt, feeling more like a tourist than a teacher, and had little hope of making even a passable impression on my new friends. .
If that were true though, my welcoming committee showed no signs of disappointment, but rather embraced me happily. After handshaking from the men, and hugs from the women, the men loaded my baggage, not letting me lift a thing, and then we drove off, three cars in tandem.
I was to discover this car partnering facilitates parking in the crowded towns with little on-street parking. One car parked wherever, and we piled into the next, and finally into the last car which found a space nearer to our destination, a small, open-aired family-style cafe in Taipei. I hoped they did not notice my careful manipulating of the broken concrete sidewalks. My head too often in the clouds, or capturing my surroundings with a camera, I had a tendency to trip and fall, thus my already injured knee.
While breakfast was being ordered, I excused myself to go upstairs to a restroom. I opened the door, to have my first experience with a squat toilet, the urinal-like depression in the floor. Well, I thought, it beats sitting down on some the toilet seats I've seen in sparkle-clean U.S. restaurants! I was glad I had worn a skirt, making standing, squatting over the thing a bit easier.
I wasn’t dismayed. I had traveled in remote villages in Guatemala during a revolution, and lived in rural areas of Mexico, so I was not that concerned about things that would be different to me here in Taiwan. In fact, I looked forward to discovering the differences. That adventure began with breakfast.
Food had already arrived when I came downstairs. I’d eaten so much on the plane that I really would have been happy with coffee and toast. Instead, my friends toasted me with small glasses of juice and cups of tea, expressing happiness that I was there. They were truly concerned that I would like the food they ordered.
DUMPLINGS, DUMPLINGS, AND MORE DUMPLINGS!
Offered my choice of what I think was hot peanut-milk or soy-milk, I accepted a bowl of steaming peanut-milk. That alone, being a late-morning breakfast person, would have been sufficient, but soon everyone was encouraging me to try a bit of everything, I sampled plates of dumplings and assorted delicious dishes I yet have names for.
EATING WITH CHOPSTICKS!
My new teaching associates were charmingly admiring of my attempt to use chopsticks. I’d had some practice on Chinese food, after all, back home. Though Teddy insisted I use a spoon and enjoy the food, I was determined to start mastering the chopsticks. On the other hand, I could scarcely eat. Still in shock that I was actually in Taiwan, I just wanted to look around at this new, warm, welcoming "family."
We walked back to the car, and when I dared to look up from the undulating, broken concrete sidewalks, I had an impression of rows and rows of barred window apartment buildings, narrow streets and more motor scooters than cars.
SHOPPING, FOR WHAT???
After about fifteen minutes driving, we stopped at a type of super market. At first, I didn’t realize they were stopping there for me so that I could pick up things I needed for my own apartment. I wasn’t expecting this, and didn’t even know what came with my apartment.
Both the men grabbed a cart, thinking I guess, being an American, I would pile both carts full. Little do they know what a non-shopper I am, I thought. Besides that, I was tired really, and so overwhelmed that I was actually in Taiwan after several months of submitting applications, documents, wondering and waiting, that I couldn’t think “shopping” at the moment.
I would need towels, they pointed out helpfully, and in that section, I looked, in vain, for a shower mat. Later, standing in my bathroom with its toilet, washbasin and open shower, I saw that a bath mat would have been useless. What I would need there, was a mop! I tried to ask for toilet paper, but Teddy helpfully pointed out someone had already put a box in my cart. I’d thought it a box of table napkins. I came to find out these were all purpose tissues, and served for toilet paper, napkins and Kleenex.
Now the men were steering me down the frozen food aisles. I felt truly helpless. In the states I tended toward fresh vegetables, salads, some chicken and fish, seldom if ever buying anything frozen. I had in my mind, going out into Yongding Village and shopping at a little open air market, like I did in Mexico or in France. I was in for a huge surprise.
My confusion was obvious, so Amy's husband picked out some microwavable mixed dishes—rice or noodles combined with vegetables and fish, and helped me find a few green vegetables, some sort of cabbage, cucumbers and tangerines.
MOUNTAINS, MISTS, AND RIVERS (c. 2006 CJ Carroll)
We drove south out of the city, but climbing steadily into the mountains, it felt as if we were headed north. The green countryside on both sides of the highway reminded me a little of Marin County in California where my sister lives, or of Hawaii, with masses of trees and vines securing the hillsides.
I was surprised that there were no houses on the mountains, but I assumed, as in Mexico, that most people preferred, or needed to, live in or near the towns or cities. Here and there though, small “cities” of ornate memorial houses for the dead, dotted the hillsides. Only these “residents” had the benefit of what was likely a spectacular “view.”
We were, I was told at last, nearing the school, Yongding Elementary in Yongding Village. Thus far, I’d not seen a village at all. We’d passed what we might call a small “strip mall” in the U.S.: a 7 Eleven type of store and an open air take-out restaurant. But there was no sense of a “village.”
THE ROADSIDE TEMPLE (c.2006 CJ Carroll)
Perhaps, I thought, as we approached the walls of the school complex, the village was beyond, further up the mountain. I only hoped I could walk to it. Opposite the school gate was a small, ornate Buddhist temple. Its roof, curved upward at each end, conjured up the image of a an ancient boat.
“You’ll see these road-side temples throughout Taiwan,” someone said. “They are intended to bring safety to travelers.” Through the open door of the temple, I could see a man lighting incense.
Inside the school gates, we parked next to a three story dorm building. I stared up at the mural on the building, a rendering of Confucius in the midst of trees, birds and mountains, just as the school is. I could scarcely believe I was standing outside the buildings which up until now, I'd only seen on the Internet. I was actually in Taiwan, and on the school campus, standing in front of the building which would be my home for the next eleven months.
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