This is a story about gratitude, friendship, and cultural differences. But at its heart, this is a story about lettuce.
Taitung is a more rural area of Taiwan, as we know, where farming is a very common profession. Many of my students' parents are farmers; usually of custard apples. Custard apples are a specialty of Taitung and arguably one of the most important crops, but more on that later. Because of the popularity of farming, it is not uncommon to have students and staff give you random crops at school.
On Friday of last week, one of the soldiers at my school handed me a pink bag with a large head of lettuce inside. Apparently it was a gift to all the teachers from the principal, who has a family farm as well. I wish I had a picture of this lettuce for you. It was a nice head of lettuce. The lettuce probably weighed about ten pounds, and was that dark green color where you just knew it was going to be extra healthy for you.
Here is the issue: I do not want or need lettuce. It was a beautiful gesture, no doubt. And it was a beautiful head of lettuce. However, due to my living situation, I cannot really cook and I do not have any sort of supplementary food to put with this lettuce. Quickly, this lettuce became a burden on my mind. I texted some friends asking them if they needed any lettuce, which of course, they did not. It would have been a shame to let this lettuce go to waste, so I really wanted to find it a home.
That night I went to a local friends house. She happens to live on, you guessed it, a custard apple farm. Her family was so sweet and welcoming to me. After a delicious dinner, dessert, and round of fried chicken I headed home. Naturally, I did not leave empty handed because they gave me some custard apples for the road.
When I got home I saw that one of my neighbors was outside. This was the grandma who lives next door. She had moved from her usual "stoop sitting position" and was rummaging through some storage in the alley way between our homes. She is not normally very friendly to me or my roommates, but I know they usually eat dinner at home, and she takes care of her 3 grandchildren nearly full-time. In particular, her grandson "Andy" has a special place in my heart. After practicing with him for months he finally understands the difference between "Who are you?" and "How are you?" And he always greats me and my roommates with a chipper "HELLO TEACHER!"
Emboldened by my desire to house this lettuce, I summoned up my developing Chinese skills and asked Grandma Neighbor to 等一下 (wait a minute). I quickly ran into my apartment and grabbed the soon to be legendary head of lettuce. I asked Grandma Neighbor "妳要這個嗎?" (Do you want this?), and her eyes lit up. She mumbled a bit in Chinese and I didn't understand, so she called out her trusty interpreter, Andy. Andy, remember, has a hard time with "who" and "how", and at age 10 does not have the most advanced English vocabulary. She handed the lettuce bag to him and he handed it to me. I was confused. I asked her "不要嗎？" (You don't want?), and through context I could tell she was saying something along the lines of "no I want it, but you should eat it." I told her that "我不可以" (I can't) and she asked why. I didn't have the language skills necessary to tell her that this was the only vegetable I owned and it would be handled poorly in my useless kitchen. Instead, I told her that I couldn't eat the lettuce because I was going to Taipei soon and it would go bad.
What happened next is remarkable. It is not uncommon here to slightly bow to someone in appreciation for a small act or favor. People bow to me and I bow to them all the time. A slight bow. Slight. Grandma Neighbor was so moved by this lettuce that she bowed a full 90 degrees at least 3 times, excitedly shouting thank you in Chinese (謝謝). I told her "no problem" in the 4 ways I know how (不會，沒關係，沒死，不客氣), because I so desperately wanted her to stop aggressively bowing at me. I've lived here for 5 months and I've never seen her so excited.
At this point Andy's sister Fiona has emerged and gets in on the excitement. I asked her "How are you?" and Andy answered on her behalf "She's hungry!" Well, I opened up my scooter trunk and handed her a custard apple from my friend's farm. This gesture solidified my status as a Ren Ba rockstar (Ren Ba is the street we live on). We spent the next 10 minutes going through English dialogues from Andy's textbook such as, "What do you do after school?" and "How's the weather?" I think this was their way of showing appreciation. After reaching the end of his English knowledge, Andy and his sister retreated inside for the night. I said goodbye to Grandma Neighbor and went inside.
In the days since the great lettuce incident, Grandma Neighbor has been so friendly to me and my roommates. She greats us from her stoop with a big smile and occasional 你好！Andy and Fiona now eagerly run to the door and shout at us any time we go by. They did that before, but it is definitely more consistent now. Apparently they ran into our house this weekend when Adelina opened the garage.
It is funny to think about what an impact a single head of lettuce had on the relationship with my neighbors. I don't think the same lettuce would have gotten the same reaction with my neighbors in the states. I also think I wouldn't have cared so much about finding a good home for this lettuce if I were in the states. There is something about living in a rural area that makes you have a greater respect for your produce and the people who grow it.
Never underestimate the power of produce.
