Memories of Taiwan(1)

Although this article was written by a foreigner, we shared the same memories of our good old days.

Joseph Wang

穿越蜿蜒的時光隧道，隧道的盡頭是五十年代的臺灣，那裏有一個美國男孩和他的童年……已近花甲之年，回憶起童年在臺灣度過的日子，美國教授Dick不禁感慨萬千……

My strongest memories of Taiwan are sensual. The smell of dirt roads and of cooking fires. The smell of gunpowder after firecrackers have exploded. The sound of rain on a tiled roof， the cries of peddlers in the street outside our house selling cakes， the squeals of pigs in the early morning as they were slaughtered， the continuous tock-tock-tock from the temple a few doors away， the sound of men spitting after they had chewed betel nut — a sound which seemed to rise from the bottom of their throats — and the bright red blob of spit on the ground which looked like fresh blood. Bright green geckoes crawling across the walls and ceilings. The sight of dogs mating in the street and getting stuck so that they couldn’t get apart. Many years later， when I made my first trip to mainland China， I got off the plane and all of a sudden， there were the same smells from my childhood！ I was home. From 1955 to 1957 our family lived in Taichung， Taiwan， a medium-sized city in the middle of the island. Our house was in an area called “Model Village” [模範鄉]， in which many comfortable houses had been built by Japanese before the Second World War. The village had a long graveled main street with five or six side-streets coming off at right angles. Our house was the first lane on the right after you drove over the bridge， right after the pedicab stand. The house on the corner belonged to a general， and the second house was ours. Further along the lane beyond our house was a stream and a temple with a sacred tree that was fun to climb in. Many of my memories are tied to our house， which was a Japanese style house behind a Chinese wall and gate. Our house was surrounded by a wall topped with broken glass and had a bright-red wooden front gate. We entered the house by way of a small entryway， where we took off our shoes and put on slippers， and then stepped up to enter the rest of the house， which consisted of tatami rooms with sliding paper doors. There was one room with Western furniture， to the left of the entrance， which we used as a sitting-room. In the dining room， to the right of the entrance， we had a telephone like you see in old Western movies， which had to be cranked. In the kitchen， behind the dining-room， we had an icebox. Along a corridor on the right-hand side of the house there was a Western-style toilet， behind a Japanese-style wooden sliding door. Next to that was a separate deep， tiled bath with small mushrooms growing in one tiny corner where the tiles had fallen off. The drain opened directly to the outside and we worried that insects would climb up into the bath. The main room was the living room with a tatami floor which looked out over the back patio through sliding doors. Here we had one or two low Chinese tables， a Chinese chest that Mother had had made， as well as a smaller chest bought in Hong Kong. We sat either on foam-rubber cushions covered in green silk， or on low round stools covered with rattan. We had a few wicker chairs also for sitting on the patio. This was where my parents entertained guests at cocktail parties.(To be continued.)

About the author： Richard (昵稱Dick) Bodman少年時在臺灣台中市求學，哈佛學士，Cornell大學博士，St. Olaf學院教授，中國通，熱愛中國文化。

Notes: sensual 感觀的，感覺的 wicker 柳條gunpowder 火藥 firecracker 鞭炮 tiled 鋪瓦的 peddler 小販 squeal尖叫 slaughter 屠殺 betel nut 檳榔 blob 一滴gecko 壁虎 graveled砂礫鋪覆的 pedicab 載客三輪車 general 將軍 stream 河流 sacred 神聖的tatami <日>榻榻米 crank 轉動曲柄 drain 排水溝 patio 天井，院子chest 箱，櫃 foam-rubber 泡沫橡膠 cushion 墊子 rattan 藤條