#1 Afraid of Hostels and the Couch-Surfing Leatherface
A Translator’s Wandering Retreat Around Taiwan (Day 0)
Despite being the opposite of a solo traveler — afraid of hostels and couch surfing, and not even particularly well-traveled for an expat — in 2020, I decided that I wanted to backpack a circle around the island of Taiwan (where I was working as a translator) speaking only the local language and accepting only free lodging.
* The News Lens published an account of day 1 of my story here. I’m writing this new series to give a more comprehensive account of my journey.
Travel vloggers are big in Taiwan, and before the pandemic, every port had been a hub of a handful of Western travelers wandering in as throngs of local influencers (網紅) rushed out — mostly to Japan, South Korea, Thailand, or even Europe, if they were feeling adventurous.
The downside to this was that the truly interesting spots in Taiwan never seemed to get the love they deserved, as those who would appreciate them most thought they’d already seen it all.
But, for better or worse, that all changed when the world shut its doors. While for most of the world, 2020 meant the uncontrollable outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic, in Taiwan — with our competent officials, reasonable guidelines, and non-politicized willingness to wear masks — we’d all but kept the virus off the island nation: which meant that we were safe, but immobilized.
Now, grounded and antsy with wanderlust, the local vlog YouTubers had no choice but to explore their padded room with fresh eyes and leave no rock (or hostel pillow) unturned. And even non-influencers, like me, were feeling inspired to do the same — though I wanted to approach this in a different spirit.
While there was nothing wrong with what they were doing, I didn’t want to be in front of a GoPro or piloting a drone, painting a pretty facade like the Taiwanese influencers; and I definitely didn’t want to be just another expat doing the typical “foreigner” song and dance — holding my nose to eat stinky tofu before relaxing my face and announcing to everyone’s adulation that I love it, and Taiwan has the greatest night markets, and that the one thing I hate about Taiwan… is that I just can’t get enough it!
I wanted to be alone with my mind; together with strangers; away from the familiar. I wanted to do something challenging and perspective-changing, and I wanted it to be somehow meditative.
Confused and Unadventurous
Having come to Taiwan alone at the age of 20, and having already lived here for 6 years, some may have assumed me to have been fairly adventurous. I didn’t feel that way, though. I’d coasted on an easy teaching gig for the first couple of years, and even when I went freelance as a translator and journalist, I stuck to a fairly predictable routine. I’d barely “gone abroad” at all since coming to Taiwan, and I’d certainly done nothing like backpacking. I’d never even stayed in a hostel — much less tried anything like couch surfing, which I was sure would lead to me being chopped up by a Taiwanese Leatherface.
And maybe that was fine. But I was confused about life, and felt like I’d stopped discovering — firmly sunk into the recliner of a comfort zone that was starting to reek of mothballs.
I’d come to Taiwan straight out of university because I thought tonal languages were cool and Traditional Chinese writing (and democracy) looked attractive; because I’d never fit in where I grew up in the Midwest, and couldn’t imagine a life I would enjoy in the US; because I thought starting over in a foreign land, learning the difficult local language, and doing everything I could to assimilate would make me more whole and interesting. But that wasn’t the whole answer.
Sure, it’s true that I had been right to pursue my interest in language-learning, which turned out to be genuine and deep; and that the wager — that I would fall in love with Taiwanese culture and the people, and that the friendships I would forge here would be profound and rewarding — indeed had paid off.
But there was still plenty to be confused about. I was living paycheck to paycheck as a freelancer with little motivation to shake things up. Despite good friendships, I felt isolated at times. The way I was thinking about the world, and trying to protect myself from it, was making me unhappy. And though Buddhism had given me ideological support — ever in the ether as it is in Taiwan — I was still getting my bearings in figuring out who I was and what I wanted.
A Wandering Retreat
In my mind, backpacking around the island was an apt solution. By doing nothing but walking for hours on end every day, I hoped to quiet my mind and deepen my meditation practice. When I stopped to rest, I would be able to read my favorite Buddhist and Hindu books on my Kindle. Plus, traversing the countryside would put me in touch with nature (and hopefully the sun as well, as Taipei had been gray for months and would likely continue to be until Spring).
Most importantly, I would be restricting myself to only relying on free shelter (I’d carry a tent on my back), which meant I would have to be vulnerable — talking to people for guidance, and occasionally relying on strangers going the extra mile just to get by — meaning greater potential to cultivate trust and connection.
As an added bonus, by completing the journey on foot instead of bike or scooter, I would be completing a rite of passage that I hoped would earn me the respect of the “most local” of locals, who I’d always wished would accept me as their own just a bit more.
Here are the restrictions I set for myself:
RULES:
1. All progress must be made on foot
- (When traveling by other means, I must always return to where I walked to last before continuing)
2. Must rely on free lodging
- (*No more than 3 nights paid lodging total)
3. No English
- (I’d refused to speak English in-person in Taiwan since 2014 anyway, but I should emphasize this for those unfamiliar with me)
The Word on the Street
I spent the weeks leading up to the trip asking everyone I knew, from close friends to casual acquaintances, what they thought about the idea, and if they had any tips.
Though no one I knew had done anything like this, the friends I’d made in Taipei generally hailed from over the island, having come to the capital city simply in search of better work opportunities, a more cosmopolitan subculture, and in some cases just to get away from nagging parents.
Tip #1: Metal walking sticks for the dogs
Almost everyone I talked to who’d grown up south of Taichung told me to bring an extendable metal walking stick or two.
“The dogs can be pretty scary,” my friend Linyan said. “I’ve heard of people being surrounded by packs around industrial parks and fish farms.”
Alarmed, I asked if I’d have to hit them.
“It’s just so they can’t bite you. If you keep the other end at their mouths, they won’t be able to reach.” (I guess assuming the pack takes turns trying to bite me.)
Tip #2: Inflatable sleeping mat for the tent
I’d also questioned a female friend, Yiqian, who had solo-backpacked all over Europe throughout her 20s, and planned on going back when the pandemic ended. She also had experience with urban camping in Japan.
“You’ll want to sleep on a concrete platform when it rains. And you’ll need a sleeping mat if you do… A Decathlon sleeping bag isn’t going to have enough padding on its own.”
Tip #4: Reflective tape
“You shouldn’t walk at night,” Xiaoda told me one day as I mentioned the trip in passing.
This was in December, when “night” started around 5 p.m.
“I don’t think I’m going to have a choice.”
Xiaoda was apparently worried I’d get side-swiped by a car walking on the shoulder (a very real threat in ‘pedestrian hell’ Taiwan).
“Buy reflective tape from a stationery shop or hardware store, then, and tape it to your pack.”
(I did:)
Tip #3: Ask temples to put you up
Reluctant to couch surf and desperate for a backup plan in case my tent and I got shooed away, I asked a devout Buddhist friend, Zikai, what he thought about trying to get by staying at Buddhist temples (“香客大樓”) whenever possible.
“It might be difficult to find a temple everywhere you go. Try calling ahead and saying you want to ‘be put up’ (Buddhist term: 掛單).”
Tip #5 Where to pitch a tent
For the rest of the details, I turned to online articles and blog posts written by Taiwanese backpack-circlers (徒友).
As I planned to start out circling the urbanized west coast, I was much more concerned about where to set up my tent than I was about other practicalities, like food, so this is where I focused my research.
Over and over, I found the same results.
The following promised to be the best places for urban camping:
1. Taoist and Buddhist temples (Indoors or out)
2. Christian churches (Indoors or out)
3. Community centers (Indoors or out)
4. School and university campuses (Outdoors)
5. Convenience stores (Outdoors)
6. Parks *With permission from local officials
7. Shrines (Outdoors)
8. Cemeteries *Some recommended praying to the dead to ask permission
Equipment Preparation
Finally, I was ready to take the final step of preparation and put together my gear. Most of it came from Decathlon, and was the cheapest I could find all in one place. I made several trips, filling out my backpack piece by piece (after I bought the backpack on the first trip, of course) as I collected new information.
In total, I probably spent about $150 — $225 USD on new gear.
By the time I was ready to set off, my hiking pack held:
* 1x Two-person tent
* 1x Sleeping bag
* 1x Inflatable sleeping mat
* 1x Inflatable pillow
* 1x Tent light
* 8x Double-A batteries
* 1x 800ml water bottle (filled)
* 1x Light-weight down coat
* 2x Changes of clothes and undergarments
* 1x Pair of knock-off Croc sandals
* 1x Disposable raincoat
* 1x Bag of bandaids and alcohol wipes
* 1x Pack of tissue-style toilet paper
* 1x Bottle of mosquito spray
* 2x Portable USB chargers
* 1x Kindle e-reader
* Relevant charging cables (phone, kindle, etc.)
* 1x Toothbrush + travel toothpaste
* 1x Thin, blank journal + pen
* 1x Wallet, with a few thousand yuan (about US$100) inside
* 1x Emergency whistle
* 1x Bottle of pepper spray
* 3x Face masks (I’d buy more as I went)
* 1x Paper fold-out map of Taiwan (for backup)
* Several bags of snacks heaped
All that was left was for me to set aside a few weeks and hit the road. And on December 8, 2020, that’s exactly what I did.
To Be Continued
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Eric R Stone is a freelance journalist and translator in Taiwan. He writes about Taiwanese culture, cross-strait politics, and human rights issues in China, and translates Buddhist and Taoist scripture and commentaries. In his free time, he DMs a Mandarin Dungeons & Dragons campaign for his Taiwanese friends.
Editors can contact Eric at ericrstone@pm.me.
Originally published at http://ericrstone.com on March 8, 2024.
