JSLALALAND

CITY & ITS PEOPLE

Taiwanese folks in LA come in about 6 kinds

Meet a Taiwanese person in LA and three sentences in you know which kind they are. From first-years to the migratory birds who fly back and forth: seven ways of leaving home, and which kind you're most likely to end up friends with.

Translated from Jasmine’s original Chinese. The illustrated slides are on the interactive reader.

Key points

Full text

  1. Type 0 | The Honeymoon Year: the first year here

    Blue skies, palm trees and In-N-Out on your stories every day, 37 photos at Costco, and you hit the highest option on the tip screen without thinking. Everyone's been this one; some people don't graduate until their first parking ticket.

  2. Type 1 | The 1.5 generation, who came as kids

    Your spoken Chinese is fluent, your writing stopped in junior high, and your price memory is stuck at 'isn't boba still NT$25?' In Taipei they call you American; in LA they call you Taiwanese.

  3. Type 2 | Came to study, then stayed

    Your first car was the used Corolla a senior sold cheap at graduation, and every Lunar New Year you say 'I'll probably go back to Taiwan next year.' Staying isn't one decision; it's a thousand 'one more year's.

  4. Type 3 | Relocated by work

    Weekends are always 99 Ranch, Costco, and the line at Din Tai Fung in Arcadia, and by 5:30 your coworkers are all gone. 'Eighteen months left on the contract,' until your kid says: I don't want to go back.

  5. Type 4 | Came For Love

    In Taiwan you were a manager; in LA you start over with the driving test. Eating turkey, you say 'so good' while thinking about ginger duck soup. In Taipei your name comes with a job title; in LA, you're first 'so-and-so's other half.'

  6. Type 5 | The ABC born in LA

    Childhood Saturdays were all Chinese school, summers meant Love Boat, you order boba and call it boba, and at Lunar New Year you go to Hsi Lai Temple with your parents. 'I understand it, I just can't really speak it,' and yet you're proudest to say you're Taiwanese.

  7. Type 6 | The Two-City Bird, back and forth

    Two time zones, two SIM cards, LINE for Taipei and iMessage for LA, a suitcase that never really gets put away, and China Airlines flight attendants starting to recognize you. Yep, J is this one herself >_<

  8. One question, seven answers | When are you going back to Taiwan?

    Type 2: 'next year' (for the tenth year running). Type 3: 'I'll go back when my contract's up (probably).' Type 6: 'which trip do you mean?' Only type 5 says 'I'm visiting Taiwan.'

  9. One question, seven answers | Where did your English name come from?

    The one a cram-school teacher gave you that you never changed; the one your partner's family gave you; ABCs only have an English name, and the Chinese one only shows up on red envelopes. Change your name, and half your life changes with it.

  10. One question, seven answers | How do you spend Lunar New Year?

    Type 2 makes hot pot in the apartment and video-calls family in Taiwan; the expats have New Year's Eve dinner with Taiwanese coworkers; the migrating birds decide which side to celebrate on based on China Airlines fares. In LA, Lunar New Year is a holiday you have to take off yourself.

  11. One question, seven answers | Your Costco cart always has…

    Type 2 buys the biggest bag of rice and the cheapest toilet paper; type 3 buys Kirkland vitamins to hand out to relatives back in Taiwan; the migrating birds only dare buy a week's worth, because they fly out next week.

  12. The combos most likely to become besties

    Types 0 × 2: senior-classmate mode switches on automatically. Types 3 × 5: expat kids need an ABC big brother or sister most. Types 4 × 6: both get what 'two homes' feels like, no explanation needed.

  13. The moment you graduate from Type 0

    Your first street-sweeping ticket, automatically putting 'the' in front of freeway names, no longer waiting on that 'sometime' coffee, and when friends visit LA, your first line is 'don't go to the Walk of Fame.' Graduation doesn't need a ceremony, just a ticket.

  14. People switch types

    Stay long enough and type 2 becomes type 6, type 3's kids grow up to be the next type 1, and type 4's kids are the type 5s of the future. Whichever type you're now, it doesn't mean you'll be the same in five years.

  15. The moments every type has

    At 99 Ranch you look twice at packaging that says 'Taiwan,' you sneak a glance when the next table's speaking Taiwanese, and there's always a Tatung rice cooker in the kitchen. 'There are six ways to leave, and only one way to miss home.'

  16. For you, whichever type you are

    To type 2: staying isn't betrayal, it's another way of growing up. To type 5: not speaking Chinese well never meant you're not Taiwanese enough. To type 6: missing both sides means there's love on both sides.

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An original JSLALALAND field guide by Jasmine Chang (@jslalaland).