The Intersection Got a FamilyMart and They’re Calling it Downtown (Taiwan)
Red Bean Pancakes
Noah Kahan has a song describing small town energy: “The intersection got a Target // And they’re calling it downtown.” Replace Target with FamilyMart and that about describes the village I am in.
That is to say, the village is villaging.
Along the main road, a couple of trucks park on the edges. Equipped with a gas canister and Tupperwares, each pickup emerges into a makeshift food stalls. The blue truck has a small cardboard sign on the car’s boot.
In Chinese and English, the sign reads “red bean pancakes. tasty”…
To understand what red bean pancakes are to my foreign audiences, I will set up a few premises.
Red beans are sweet. They are beans in the way that black, white, or kidney beans are. But these ones, when boiled with sugar, softened and mashed, become sweet.
Taiwanese pancakes are not crêpes or American pancakes. Made from just flour, water, and salt, Taiwanese pancakes are similar to a flatbread you would find in an Indian/Pakistani restaurant. If the word paratha means anything to you, this is a close match. By repeatedly rolling the dough into balls, flattening, and aligning the dough sheets on top of one another, the griddled pancake will become thin and flaky. The most common Taiwanese pancake is a scallion pancake which has chopped scallions in between the flaky layers.
The red bean pancake builds off of the aforementioned premises. Instead of scallions, mashed red beans or red bean paste are added between the layers.
Okay, I will plot twist a little but here, but the dough at this stand was not exactly the Taiwanese pancake I know in Taipei. Premise two is not fully accurate. This pancake was a bit fluffier and tasted closer to fried dough (probably because there was much more oil in this one). Nevertheless, whatever version of red bean pancake there is, will be the perfect version of a red bean pancake. Existence for my consumption is enough, for me.
Okay I will add one more piece. Apparently this shop is only open two days a week, and occasionally an extra Saturday. Somehow I was lucky enough to find the pancakes on their two consecutive days open, but ended up sending some friends on a wild goose chase the other days. Since the shop is a truck, it disappears, leaving no trace that the yumminess even existed in the first place.
Random bits and pieces
I surfed.
I stood up.
I entered the washing machine two times (this is when you get pummeled by a wave and it flips you over and around and over again until the fist of the waves passes).
Rolling around in a mega washing machine sounds terrifying from the description, but to be honest, I loved it. I had enough air, allowing me to enjoy the acrobatics I would never be able to do on land. My neck is a bit sore this morning, though.
Coconut water for electrolytes (Bay-Area American, 2025).
Details
We rise at 6:30am. This time, not from nightmares but with a sleep fully spent. The sky is already illuminated. I walk to FamilyMart and buy my sesame paste buns. One for me and one for a friend.
Time passes. Lunch occurs. Noodles, dumplings, and tofu cooked by a woman who reaches flavor profiles only a mother can attain. Boba finishes off the mealtime. Oolong.
I crash into a sweaty nap. Existing during the day is asking a lot. A nap rushes past these harder times.
3:30pm I rent a bike. I pedal to the left, a region I have yet to venture into. I bend through the hills with the foliage peeling back to reveal the sea.
Over a bridge, down a hill.
Jay-walk across the busy road down a dirt path.
A stray dog barks.
Tense, but don’t suggest fear. Park bike.
The alcove.
Unlike the beach I most frequent, this beach is quieter. Less people. The waves pulse but never peak. The beach is dotted with washed up corals and shells. Not too far from shore, the sand falls off and treading water is the only way.
I swim: freestyle, backstroke, and froggie. I sink to the sea floor and flip myself for handstands. I reunite with the child who knew the waves— who saw the ocean as her playground rather than her opponent. I jubilate, with my voice echoing back from the surrounding cliffs.
Afterwards, I wander along the sand with my neck cranked towards the ground. I scavenge through the pebble and corals.
In primary school, I would visit my uncle and cousins in Florida. We would go to the beach, and I would end up with a plastic bag full of corals to lug on the plane back to New York. Each year, another full bag would get added to the pile. Today, I bring back a single piece to honor the little girl who once was.
And then… Hermit crabs! Small. Very baby cutie patooties. Hermit crabs!
Small Village, Plentiful Life
the calico cat above has become my muse… just you guys wait
While I remain in the same village, the people that form my foreground are constantly shifting. Like Pocohanta’s river, one can never step into the same hostel twice. One week a guy with a thick New Zealand accent is always up for a playfully risky “ADDventure.” Another moment I am discussing international relations with US diplomats. And then a few days later, I am jumping up for a sunrise exploration of an abandoned hotel.
I am connecting to people sooooo easily. I shock myself with the threads that stitch such divergent characters together. To the three of us who are each making podcasts. To the two of us playing with animation in After Effects. To the other two of us who are vegan photographers and live(d) in Berlin! To the Buffalonians?! To the painters, newsletter writers… We come here to surf and we leave with red bean pancakes in our bellies and fleeting friendships that will cement our memories of this time.
To describe my experience in a sterilized way for the tech bros: I am networking. Oop.
Every few days, I find new pockets to explore and become intimate with. The first week was for surfing. I conquered waves beneath the sun and moon (soraj & chaan). The next days, I explore the mountains. I trudge through rivers (darya) to ravine waterfalls. Then, I find a new beach (the alcove aforementioned). I explore two worlds as revealed at sunrise and sunset. Hermit crabs in the evening. Eels in the morning. I do not know if time dictates the species that I see, so I cover all the bases, just in case.
I am at a point where each day is so full, that I am either losing time to write, or the reflections become so long that I fear to overwhelm this document. Distractions are easy to come by. I mean, right now my friend are doing acro-yoga in the living room.
Okay, I think I will settle this here. Cheers!
