Sitting in a Corner at Eslite Reading Poetry

There are times when I just need to talk English with a native speaker. When I need to express myself in an uncensored way, using all the idioms and verbal phrases and cultural references and nuances that make English so hard for Taiwanese people.

On most days, I am happy enough with the cultural learning and stretching that happens in Taiwan, some good Taiwanese friends, along with other goodies. But I find that every once in a while, perhaps after a hard day of studying Chinese, when I am discouraged, or when I'm feeling homesick for Berkeley, I need a taste of home.

However, unlike some foreigners here, I don't have that many foreign friends. This is not accidental. I am living in Taipei, trying to learn Chinese. I'm not trying to recreate home.

I realize how our daily interactions with other people are a way that we can reflect our experience back to ourselves. Maybe a way to feel our lives a little more deeply. And I still can't do that all in Chinese.

Yesterday, I was studying in Eslite 誠品, my favorite bookstore. During a study break, I went to the poetry section. There I found my "foreign friends". I found a book of poetry, sat my ass on the floor, leaned by back against the wall, and hung out with Mary Oliver, Derek Walcott, Rumi, Whitman, and some others.

Perhaps I have a need to go to that sublime place that intimate conversation with a good friend takes you, or in the case, poetry.

If you are in Taipei, and want to join me at Eslite for a little poetry, let me know, and perhaps we can both go to that place together.