As I have mentioned before, the Center for Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation at George Mason University and National Taiwan Normal University work together closely in order to promote academic interaction between students and scholars from the two countries. Thus, during our time in Taiwan, NTNU has been the "home base" of we three GMU students in Taiwan. Today, we met again with Professor Ann Heylen, the Director of the International Taiwan Studies Center, who has been working closely with us, Professor Chen Mei-ying, who teaches modern Taiwanese culture and has also been interacting closely with us, and Meng-chia, a student and assistant in the Center. Ying, as she asked us to call her, gave the tour of the campus.
National Taiwan Normal University, commonly referred to as "Shida" (pronounced Shuh-DA, short for Lao Shi Da Xue ["Teacher University"]) was officially founded in 1946 but has been in existence as an educational institution since the early 20th Century. It was founded as a school for the training of teachers and educators for the Taiwan school system. Since then, the university has added new departments in liberal arts, physical education, fine arts, and other fields. Yet in becoming a full-fledged national university, it has never lost its reputation as the top school in Taiwan for the training of teachers. Today the population of undergraduate students is around 7,000, placing Shida in the "medium-sized" category of Taiwanese universities. Its central campus is located in its eponymous district (Shida District), which is in the south central region of Taipei (south of the Chiang Kai Sheck Memorial). The busy Heping Road runs from east to west across the main campus, dividing it into a larger southern and smaller northern segment. Our tour began on the latter.
A statue of Confucius greets students and visitors alike as they enter the grounds from the street. On this side are found both the large university library and also the Mandarin Training Center (where many of the North American students I know at the hostel are studying Chinese this summer). Ying brought us into the library, which is large and has thirteen floors, all of which open to a central atrium, creating a pleasing feeling of openness and light. We found ourselves scooting around the perimeter of the main floor, because when we arrived, there was in fact a conference being held in the library. I believe that the subject was the work of a famous Taiwanese artist, who had taught at Shida for some time; his daughter was in attendance as a presenter. This university is a busy place!
Our group next traveled across Heping Road to the other half of the campus. We walked through the main entrance, where there is a statue of Chiang Kai-Shek (produced by the university art department in 1977), in front of the oldest building of the university, built in a mixed Japanese and Western architectural style. Turning right, we passed the music building, the physical education building, and the large athletic area that is the western terminus of the campus (composed of basketball courts, a track, and a large field). As we reversed direction and began strolling down what might be called the "central yard" of the campus, we passed the aquatic center, college of liberal arts, and the buildings of other departments. Along this way, there were many small stands, staffed by a few students. These were all related to the Watermelon Festival (which I will describe below).
Director Heylen and Ying treated us to lunch at a nice, small restaurant a few blocks away from the campus. The meal ordered was tasty, traditional Taiwanese cuisine. All together, we were an assorted group, coming from Taiwanese, American, Belgian, and Chinese backgrounds, and various mixes of them. Interesting conversation is bound to occur when such people gather together. And so it was! Our conversation flowed from experiences in the Taiwanese school system, to differences between Taiwanese and Western education, to foreign language acquisition in Taiwan, Europe, and America, and even to past "scholarly pursuits" of Taiwanese boy-band celebrities. Not excluded from the lunch was a good dose of laughter. It was an overall wonderful time.
Upon finishing lunch, all six of us went in different directions. The campus festivities, which I first had learned about on Wednesday and then had seen earlier today on the tour, drew me back to the Shida campus. The Watermelon Festival was being celebrated; on this day every year, it is traditional to give a watermelon to your sweetheart. The bigger the watermelon, the greater the love expressed. In addition, each type of melon has a different significance–red signifies romantic love, while yellow signifies close friendship. The words for each melon and its associated emotion sound similar in Chinese–hence, the association. This afternoon, in the central yard, various games and activities were being held, and so I decided it would be fun to participate. The one booth-hand who spoke passable English explained to me the deal: there were six stations set up, each with a different challenge. By completing every challenge, and receiving the corresponding stamp on a paper, one would be entered in a raffle for a bicycle. The competition was on.
For the first activity, I had to fold a leaf of paper into a small boat, place it in a water-filled plastic channel filled with obstacles (ping-pong balls), and blow it from one end to the other. In spite of the terrifying, hazardous obstacles (a few ping-pong balls), I was able to propel my boat with no problem, thus earning my first stamp. In the next activity, I competed against another student, trying to earn more ticks on a pedometer by jumping up and down as fast as I could for the length of one iPod song. My discouragement upon learning that I had lost to my opponent was quickly lessened when I was told that every participant received a stamp. The same thing happened at the next station, where I lost a set of rock-paper-scissors to a girl more flexible than I (whoever lost each round had to move his or her legs farther apart). The next two stations involved ping-pong balls and water challenges, and I was able to complete them. The last involved filling out a questionnaire about certain Taiwanese energy drinks, some of which apparently have been exposed as containing dangerous chemicals. The middle-left group of characters got my circle–they had such a sinister look. With my last stamp earned, I entered my name in the raffle. I did not win bike. Too bad, because I'm sure the Cat's Pajamas could use one.
Remembering that my new friend Jessie would be competing in one of the swimming races that day, I decided to visit the pool and look around. The stands were full of NTNU students shouting, laughing, and cheering for their friends. A student of physical education explained to me that teams were composed of students from the same school departments or clubs, and that the departments competed throughout the day. He then showed me the English Chat Room in another building, where I met three friendly Taiwanese students, all studying English (and doing a very good job, from what I experienced). One of them, Mark, joined me for the rest of the day, telling me about his hometown in the south of the country, about his family, about his studies, and about his views on Taiwanese history, society, religion. We then left the campus and walked around the night market for a little while.
A Chinese girl from Beijing had recently joined us at the Cat's Pajamas (my hostel). She attended high school in the United States, and is currently a student at an all-girls college. With her came a girl from Taipei, who was the former's exchange partner for a cultural program. The three of us ate dinner at a Japanese restaurant, and talked about life in China, Beijing, and America. Later that evening, the three of us went out to a café with an English fellow who earned his master's degree in comparative literature and linguistics of Germanic languages (i.e. fascinating things like the Norse sagas, Icelandic epics, and Old English literature), and a girl from the south of China who is a student. The Minimal Café was full of cats. That's right–twenty or more cats prowled around the inside and outside of the shop, free to pet–if you could snag one. I imagine the niche market they are catering to is not too big. Yet the café had a fair amount of people for the rather late hour. The quiet cats did not at all disturb our pleasant conversation.
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