台湾。

I. Am. In. Taiwan. Finally! The plane ride was horrible; mainly because I don't like to ride on planes, I decided that on my thirteen hour flight from Chicago to Japan. The food, the people, the scene, the everything! I don't know where to start. Okay, okay. Let us begin with my arrival. Fair enough? Good.

I stepped off the plane, ready to drop on my knees and kiss the ground, thankful that I did not have to get on to another plane for a year. I found my luggage had made it safe and sound, which was a relief. I exited the luggage area to find a cute little Asian family holding a banner with my name on it. The first sentence I said was "I'm not a plane," when I meant to say "I don't like to ride airplanes." Epic fail. My host mother looked at me funny, nodded, and smiled. I turned bright red after Vivian, my host cousin, told me what I had just said. Obviously, they already knew I wasn't an airplane without me having to tell them. The airport was an hour away from my new home. We had stopped at a 7-Eleven to get some food. I didn't eat much because my stomach was upset from the airplane food. But I was almost in tears on the car ride home, because my host dad was looking through the radio for any station that was in English. He speaks not one word in English. I was touched.

The family; Amazing. I've spent most of my time with my host uncle, Victor, Vivian, and my host brother. (I haven't learned their names yet. I don't think I will learn my host brother's because he is going to Russia on an exchange in a couple days.) Victor keeps me on my toes and makes sure I don't fall asleep while the sun is still up. He says in English "Sun up, you no sleep when sun down." Smart boy. Victor and I hang out the most. We ride bikes, kick a soccer ball around, play video games, and like right now, watch Sponge Bob Square Pants in Chinese. Vivian has been my translator. I know some Chinese, but not enough apparently. She is helping me the first week, but after that, no more English for me.

The food. Lord have mercy, the food is amazing. I wish my body was use to eating a lot, but I am not a heavy eater. Vivian thinks I don't like the food; but each time I tell her "No, no the food is amazing! I just don't eat a lot." Regardless, I still don't think she believes me. But all of it, is amazing. My host dad and I go to a local cafe each morning where him and a bunch of other men gather to start the day off with a good cold beer. They are all funny and happy go lucky. Never fails that they will ask me if I want a beer too. I just smile and say "I'm sixteen," in Chinese. The drinking age is eighteen. But, regardless, they'll ask anyway. And I bet my bottom dollar, they'll ask me again tomorrow.

(Ground pork, sprouts, green onions, and noodles. Amazing. It's local Chinese food they eat for lunch. I also had the traditional bubble tea. I would have taken a picture, but it was in a cup with a plastic film over the top. Then you punch a straw through it.)