Article July 21, 2003 Issue

'God's angels are going before me'

By Cynthia Newport

A few years ago , I left my home in the United States to work for a year as an English teacher in Taipei. The young Taiwanese couple I would be working for met me at the airport.

After dinner in the city, they took me to where I'd be living, which was not in any of the beautiful, open parts of Taipei, but in a low-rent section. My apartment was at the top of a six-floor walk-up. The apartment was stuffy and dirty, and the noise from the street below was incredible. The first night I slept there, a giant cockroach flew in the window. Every night, firecrackers constantly went off, trucks rumbled past, and rock music blared. Motorcycles roared by day and night. And it was very hot, over 100 degrees. On top of all the din, I could even hear a rooster crowing.

As I tried to become acclimated to my new surroundings, the passage of time seemed very strange to me. Although my days were packed, time itself seemed to go by very slowly. I felt like a child. I couldn't read the signs. I had trouble figuring out the money system. Sights and sounds bombarded me, and I couldn't understand the language all around me. The impact of all this was exhausting. But when I would look at the calendar, I'd think, "Oh, only one more day has gone by?"

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'God's angels are going before me'

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