“Everychild is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once wegrow up.” - Picasso
While I was in Taipei, my friend Lisa took me to the National Museum of History of Taiwan. The museum featured a temporary exhibit, brought from Paris, of some of Picasso's work. It was there, in the entrance of the museum, that I read Picasso's quote about the inner artist we lose after childhood. I didn't take the time to fully contemplate the quote, but it touched me enough to jot it down.
After the museum, Lisa and I spent our morning trying local food. Lisa showed me from shop to shop, excitedly pointing out her favorite foods and ordering several dishes for us to try. I just as happily savored every bite, while she casually told me about her family and which dishes they preferred. I learned that her grandfather loves brown rice milk, that her family dips a certain pastry into soy milk before taking a bite, and that her mother prepares some of the same dishes we were trying. Trying new food tastes so much better when accompanied by someone else's recounting of memories, and in turn, those flavors remain rich and are easier to lock into memory.
Afterour mid-morning meal, Lisa and I took a taxi to the Taipei 101 Tower. We were short on time, as Lisa had wanted to spend every minute possible being my tour guide before going to work. On the ride over, the taxi driver repeated to Lisa that I was very beautiful. I was surprised to hear this, and I realized that it had been a very, very long time since a male stranger had complimented me on my appearance. Because frankly, Japanese men don't say much in that regard. I could walk around with an air of confidence that would command a doubletake back home, but only cause a few slight glances in this country. Maybe this is one of the reasons why some Japanese women plaster their naturally lovely faces with so much makeup.... Anyways, enough of that.
After the taxi ride, I had to say a quick goodbye to Lisa. My wonderful host was late to work! I gave her a hug and a big “thank you” –just in time for her to catch the last flicker of the green light in the intersection, and rush over to her workplace. I was alone again, feeling especially tiny under that massive tower. So, what did I do?It was all to easy to solve, my high was waiting right in front of me. I went up Taipei 101.
Theview was spectacular, and the fee entrance included a self-guided audio tour. I had a good time listening to the guide and searching in the landscape for landmarks it mentioned. At the end though, I wished someone had been there with me. I have no problem being alone, but there is something unnatural about solitude when coming from a large family. I don't resent solitude, and sometimes I even welcome her,but she is still a stranger to me. Even though we have become more acquainted with each other this past year, that doesn't change. Will it ever?
I headed down from the tower and walked into the posh mall downstairs. I wanted access to the internet, to look up the address of a vegan restaurant nearby. I noticed there was a Starbucks in the food court, so I turned on my phone's wireless internet and headed for the coffeeshop that symbolizes free internet access, worldwide: Starbucks. Before arriving at Starbucks, though, I saw that my phone had picked up a signal from the Mos Burger place to my left. I decided to buy coffee from the place, in hopes that I would be handed a receipt with a WiFi password of some sort. But, it was a no-go. The cashier told me that there was no internet, and referred me to the information desk. I was perplexed, as my phone marked a signal from that fast food restaurant. I opened the internet browser on my phone, and read that there was internet in that spot, but that I needed a Taiwanese phone number or credit card to access it. I could have headed to Starbucks to search for internet, but I already had a cup of coffe ein hand. Oh, the irony. Instead, I searched for a place to sit and drink my coffee.
Most of the tables were full, but I noticed a mostly empty table next to the McDonalds. There was only a woman and two children sitting on one end, and an empty stroller parked on the opposite end. I gestured at a seat in the middle of the table and asked the woman if I could sit down, just in case. She nodded her head, so I sat down. The two kids looked up at me curiously, while nibbling on their fries. I disregarded it as a reaction to my foreigness. I took my journal out of my bag and started to write. I looked up for a second, and realized that the family had grown in numbers. There were two more children sitting near me – one in the seat next to me – and both watching me intently as they sipped on their drink and ate their burgers. Then, more children starting appearing around me, trickling towards the table. Soon, the owner of the stroller and her small child joined the group. One by one, the seats around me starting filling up, and before I could understand what was going on, there were ten little faces looking at me -- some quickly losing interest, as others tilted their head in amusement as they pondered over my presence. The empty seats had all been filled, and the two women on opposite ends started chatting with each other across the table. It was then that I realized that the two women knew each other, and that these two families were dining together. I had crashed this family's dining hour. We must have looked very odd together, or should I say, I must have looked very odd among them. The women seemed to take no notice of me, but I'm sure they were aware of the hilarity of my presence. Before I got up to leave, the little girl in front of me gave me a very toothy grin. I couldn't help but giggle, and soon, there were five or six little Taiwanese children giggling with me. My little artists, they had probably created a life story for me as they watched me and contemplated why this stranger had sat down amid their family. Finally, they must have wondered why I had fallen into a giggling fit before departing.
You were right, Picasso. Every child is an artist. And the problem is remaining one as we get older. I tried to take the childrens' curiosity and lightheartedness with me as I explored the rest of Taipei. And believe it or not, this is much easier to do when roaming a foreign city, alone.
