Today I am going to get my haircut. 

This seems like an easy task. I always like it cut the same way it’s growing, shorter, but not too short because then my hair stands up and I can’t brush it down, yet not too long where I’ll have to return to get it cut again in a few weeks. Normally it’s a quick errand you fit into your busy schedule of running around in this sometimes fast paced, crazy world. 

But when you’re traveling, sometimes the simplest of tasks at home can seem like a mountain of an obstacle in another country.

Last night I was thinking of what to eat for dinner. The fridge was mostly empty, with just the typical easy foods, like sandwiches and some leftover pasta from a couple nights before. Yet I was tired of eating those same old foods when just outside my apartment the options for good traditional Chinese food are endless. Different shops lined up from street to street with bright lights inviting everyone to enter. Families packed into crowded corners of the restaurants, with owners scrambling to find extra seats, all of them bringing  hungry appetites with happy faces, anticipating the tasty food they would soon acquire.  

Yet there we were watching from a sad, dark distance, like two hungry helpless street dogs licking our lips, seeing young and old enjoying their savory dishes. 

“Wow, that looks gooood,” Jay said. 

Sadly, looking at the posted menu, we only saw Chinese characters that we didn‘t understand. 

“We don’t know how to order here,” I said. “Let’s find a place with pictures.”  

Pictures of food are our savior and the only means to eat a decent meal out, a picture of duck or chicken on top of rice, or a bowl of noodles with pieces of beef, simmered until the meat is soft. We have, in a sense, become picture hunters, hunting for restaurants that have photos that we can point to with our hands and nod in agreement to, with wide smiles. To the Chinese restaurant workers, we probably sound like cavemen from a foreign land, our English words sounding like grunts, while we nod our heads because we want delicious “FOOOOD!”  

Although a short time has past, we now have our favorite hunting grounds that we visit regularly. The restaurant workers now recognize us, and know what foods we enjoy. Little by little, life has become easier. Even though I am in a country different from what I am accustomed to, I feel the normality of life getting easier day by day.

Days don’t always seem like being in a battlefield, where I have to be on my toes. No longer am I scared of walking, or riding my bike on the busy street, with cars and motorbikes flying by me at arms length. I don’t bother caring about loud fireworks popping at random parts of the day. Sure, I can't speak Chinese, and I don’t know how to buy everything I want, but in reality I have been getting by just fine. 

Now for my next battle:  What do I say to my barber today?

And now we ask you: When living in another country, how do you deal with not being able to get seemingly everyday things? Or what hardships do you imagine you might face if you ever made such a move? Comment below and let us know!

Jon grew up in Honolulu,
 Hawaii, and has worked as
a community volunteer in 
the cities of Altamira and 
Puerto Escondido, Mexico. 
He currently lives in Taiwan.

One of the most exciting things about moving to a new place is discovering all those little every day spots. You know, like where you'll pretty much always end up eating whenever you feel too lazy to muster up any motivation to explore anywhere else, or like where you need to go to do your laundry, or shop for goods, or what's the fastest or most convenient route to the subway station.

All of these simple little first timers will get old after a while. These are things that you will eventually find yourself doing day in and day out. So take that exciting first time feeling that you get the first few times that you do it and try to remember how exciting it was for you when first discovered it!
 

And now we ask you: How do you deal with learning how to do those every day simple things in a foreign country? Comment below and let us know!

I wake up in the middle of the night to the sounds of growling coming from the streets below. I rub my eyes, sit up in bed and look out the window, peering eleven floors down, to see a pack of wild dogs roaming the streets, looking for a fight. Oh, the joys of Kaohsiung, I think to myself. I contemplate the possibility of throwing something at the snarling pack, but I realize that eleven floors up is a long way down, and who knows where a random object might land, like on the upturned face of one unsuspecting local. The last thing I need is my own pack of angry Taiwanese ganging up on me, the silly waiguo-ren living all the way up on the top floor. But what am I thinking? The people here in South Taiwan are actually pretty hospitable and laid back. Not to mention the fact that I don't really have anything in my possession I can afford to throw out of a window at 4 am. In any case, I realize that it is way too early for me to try and process such random thoughts of superficial in-consequence, so I shake my head, lie down, and I fall back asleep to the humming sounds of early-morning mopeds and growling street dogs.

Sometimes it feels like I am in an alternate universe, where the buildings and streets vaguely remind me of Hawaii and the people look like the people back home. But the words that I hear are foreign to my ears and the words that I see are indecipherable in my mind. All too often I find myself feeling both mute and illiterate.

But through my inability to communicate in ways that I am familiar with, I find myself having to get creative, speaking with my hands and face, or listening intently with my eyes. I know now that if I can't find it, I can sheepishly motion to the clerk, asking, “Where can I find a toilet bowl plunger? Yes, a toilet plunger.” Or if I don't feel like eating pig knuckle again, a flap of the arms and a loud 'Bok-BOK!' gets me shredded chicken on a scoop of rice. Of course, the lady over the counter tells me, “Ji.” I stare at her blankly, “Umm, Ji?” And then slowly I get it, “Oh, okay...” I nod enthusiastically, “Yeah... ji!” Here in Taiwan it's really true that a smile and a laugh goes a long way. It can even get you an extra piece of sausage on your lunch plate, along with your ji.

There's also those times when I realize I shouldn't presuppose. Like when I passed by a street window filled with roast ducklings and crispy Chinese roast pork. As I walked on, I kept that street corner in mind, and when I went home, I pulled out my Mandarin phrasebook and conquered the words for duck and pork, “Ya” and “Ju”.

I smiled to myself, I was finally ready to speak to the natives. When I went back a few days later, I stepped up to the window and waited for the duck-man to acknowledge me. But when he nodded in my direction, fear took over, so I just reached around the glass, pointing at my items of choice, and said, “Duck and pork.” My mouth was watering hungrily and I was too embarrassed to try and make myself understood. But in clearly pronounced English, the man asked me, “You just want duck and pork?" I blinked. "How about rice?” he said.

And of course, there is that one time when I ordered a bowl of steaming hot shabu-shabu, and just as I dig my chopsticks in to try and find the chunky good stuff at the bottom, I pull out an auspicious looking gelatinous cube, thick and black, like a piece of chocolate jello. My heart sinks, and I go back up to the counter with my handy Mandarin phrasebook, and point at that character that I knew I should have learned how to pronounce before I came here, xue...blood, said in the 4th tone. I smile widely and keep that polite question mark on my face. The lady nods back in confirmation.

But it's moments like this that helps me to go back later with relative confidence. Again I order another bowl of soup, but this time I tell the lady, “Wo bu yao you ju-xue.” She nods, but than points at the piece of fried pork in the picture of the dish I just ordered, “Ni bu yao you ju ma?” It takes me a moment to realize what she's asking me. Than I make a guess, “Okay, well... wo yao you ju,” I say, smiling. “But,” I continue, “Wo bu yao you ju-xue, ji-xue, ya-xue...wo bu yao you xue. ” She nods again and says, “Bu yao xue.”

And what about my sleeping habits now? Well, thankfully the dogs were no longer outside tearing each other to shreds this morning. But I was still shocked awake by the sound of 'Eye of the Tiger' blasting through loudspeakers. I lay there in a deep sleep, only to hear through the thick darkness...”DUNH, pause, Dunh dunh DUNH, pause, Dunh dunh DUNH, pause, Dunh dunh DUUUUUUNH!” I sit up in bed, this time wondering if I'm in a movie running up stairs, or if my mind just decided to start playing a soundtrack to my life. I rub my eyes and look out the window, peering eleven floors down to the streets below. I get up just in time to see a big covered truck barreling down the street, loud speakers blaring. But fortunately for itself, the truck plows off into the distance, moving too fast to be hit by any random objects thrown from a top floor apartment window.

And now we ask: What are some of the first hurdles that you need to overcome when first arriving in a country? How do you deal with these? Comment below and let us know!

Regardless of how much planning you put into it, when the plane tires screech on the tarmac of your destinations arrival city, you're nervous! You may not know what really to expect; Will there be a bank kiosk to exchange notes? Am I standing in the right immigration line? Should I have filled out that paper that everyone else has in their hands? Is my visa really valid? And if not, do they really issue visa's on the spot here? What about my luggage, will it still be there after I get through this mess of a line? And how will I get to my final destination?

All of this may cross your mind, but as soon as you sit down in that first taxi, or find your seat number on that first bus, or step inside as the doors close behind you on your first train, that feeling of initial accomplishment rushes over you, and you realize that everything's gonna be alright.

And now we ask you: How do you feel when you first step off that plane and onto foreign grounds? Comment below and let us know!

When I witnessed the fight while standing in the immigration line, I realized this would be a whole new life. Okay, so it wasn't really a fight, but it was definitely different. What I mean is, it's not everyday that you see a grown man in some kind of official Taiwanese uniform shoving middle aged Japanese women, along with the rest of us disrespectful little 'non-citizens', shouting at us at the top of his lungs in an effort to get us to all stand in line properly. And he wasn't just shoving us, but he was literally herding us with his baton, pushing us as if we were one large mass of madness. Of course, it worked, we lined up like sheep. And if that wasn't enough, the offended Japanese women took their stand against the officer tyrant man, shoving back at him and shouting in their mother tongue. And the gentleman's response? “Sumimasen...sumimasen...,” he said, bowing apologetically while continuing to shove them back roughly, "Sumimasen.” Well, I thought to myself, at least he has the courtesy to apologize to them in their own language.

Rewind a half hour: As our plane touched down onto the tarmac of Taoyuan International Airport, one hour west of the capitol city of Taipei, the first faint glimpse I could get of my new home was smog. And not just gray air, but thick, heavy, almost oppressive looking, the kind that scrapes it's way down your esophagus and clings to your lungs. It's no wonder than that, upon disembarking, more than a few of the locals donned masks, some decoratively patterned and printed, to filter out the thick smog air.

I realize that these first two paragraphs paints our arrival into Taiwan as if we were entering some hazy and depressing country. But this (so far) is not the case. In reality, what few interactions we've had as of yet with the locals has been pleasant and helpful, albeit brisk and efficient. And did I mention the green? Stepping off of the plane, Thuy remarked about how much greenery and life there was around the city. Coming here, I had expected the stereotypical Asian tiger concrete jungle of highrises and clogged streets, and although our gateway city of Taoyuan is not Taipei, I was surprised to see the countless rice paddies squeezed between colorful buildings as we rode down the highway.

And the further south we went, palm trees and bamboo began to dominate the scenery. Even now, as I sit back in my huge bus seat the size of first class airplane seats, and stare out the window, we pass green hills of trees and plant life. I notice too that the smog begins to thin out as we make our way further from Taoyuan.

Our departure from Eko and Thuy was quick and painless. We stepped off the plane, exchanged money, went through immigration, picked up our bags, and Eko helped us buy our bus tickets to Kaohsiung. The bus station is in the airport, which was very easy and convenient. And what of our inappropriately massive amounts of unnecessary luggage? We didn't even get a blink from the the waif thin bus ticketing agent. She whipped our luggage up onto a baggage cart like it was nobody's business, weaving her way through the crowds as she wheeled along with her one of my huge suitcases that must have weighed half her weight.

She directed us to our bus, told the bus driver to watch out for us, showed us all of the nifty first class contraptions that were built into our seats, and then left. But of course, all of our thanks goes to Eko, who really helped us get on our way as quick and seamlessly as possible, before giving us both hugs and waving goodbye. You told us you'd come and visit us down here some day, I'm going to hold you to that promise.
And now here I am, on a Ho Hsing bus en route to the city of Taichung, where we transfer onto another bus, which will eventually take us to our final destination, the southern city of Kaohsiung, Taiwan's second largest metropolis. Arrival time to Kaohsiung? 7 p.m.

But for now, I guess I'll just kick back in my fat lounge-chair like bus seat, have a little snack, and reflect on what few experiences I've had so far here in my new home. And of course, look up every once in a while to look out the window and enjoy the beautiful green.

And now we ask: What are some of your most memorable first impressions? Comment below and let us know!