Although their English might not be great, they sure know how to speak music. And that is all that matters, we have at least some way to communicate. Music is the ultimate universal language.
A friend of mine informed me he was playing at a music venue in Taitung. This was kind of big deal considering he was an Israeli man, singing and playing to an audience of Taiwanese people and a couple of foreign travelers. He met some aboriginals from the local tribes while he was hitch hiking up north. They hung out and played some tunes together. Afterwards they asked him if he would play with them in Taitung in a few days.
Ofer, the Israeli friend of mine, was a little nervous about playing with them (who wouldn’t be?) so he wasn’t too generous with the location. A couple of volunteers from a cafe near by and I decided to accept the challenge of finding the location to go see Ofer play.
We drove about twenty minutes south to the city of Taitung. Luckily, the other people I was with had been here before so they had an idea of where the music was. The music venue was a trendy little place in the city where they had performances regularly. There were several musicians that were playing all different genres of music. Everyone was so incredibly talented. The music ranged from aboriginal music to western songs I was familiar with, and everything in between.
We made it in time to watch Ofer play with two other Taiwanese aboriginals. They sang two aboriginal songs. Then Ofer sang and played a song in Hebrew, that he shared from home. I can not even begin to describe the amount of talent that was surrounding me that night.
After all the different musicians played about three songs each and the show had finished, we hung out for a little bit after. The other volunteers wanted to head back, because we all had to be up early for work tomorrow. As we got ready to leave, Ofer insisted we all stay for the after party. Everyone kindly denied, all focusing on the bed at home that awaits them. I, on the other had, am sleeping in a bunk bed in a room with five other people. So I do what I do best, and continue the spontaneity.
Before introducing me to the aboriginal friends he had made, Ofer tells me to slow down my English. I struggle with this, always have. I am introduced to several aboriginals from three different tribes: Amis, Bunun, and Puyuma. I instantly connect with absolutely everyone; it is like I have known them for years. We are all sitting by this fire and they ask me if I have tried the Binlang. Binlang is the betel nut that everyone chews on here.
All the locals always have a mouthful of this unappetizing plant; they chew on it for effects similar to those of tobacco. I inform them that I have not tried it and didn’t plan to. Well, they only heard that I haven’t tried it because two girls instantly got up and started running. I totally knew what was coming my way, I was gonna have to try this damn betel nut. There is the video posted below if you’d like to watch this experience of mine.
They are all amped on me trying the Binlang, so obviously I toss the nut wrapped in a leaf in my mouth and start to chew. Expecting the worst, but hoping for the best. The taste starts to prevail in my mouth. It almost tastes like peppermint. Everyone is staring at me, like I am some sort of new toy that is about to do something cool. They were all so excited I was trying this.
My face starts to get really hot, and it starts to move to the rest of my body. I like this stuff, I am so warm! Being someone who can never escape the cold for some reason, I like betel nut a lot so far. My mouth gets full, and I look at them with the face you give your dentist when you’re getting fluoride. They all say “spit, spit!” So I run over to the grass and do as I was told. I start to get all numb and tingly; they are laughing and loving my experience. After about a minute or two more, I take it out completely. It was nowhere near as bad as I thought it was gonna be. But, that was the end of my betel nut journey.
We then moved to this big wooden picnic table, where several other aboriginals are hanging out. They are playing the guitar and singing a song form one of the tribes. Everyone seems to know this song, every song actually. Every single person has the voice of an angel. Is this a tribe thing? Where can I get a voice like that? There is a guitar and a set of drums that are continuously being passed around the circle.
After four or five songs are completed, the instrument would get passed to the person next to them. Each person it got passed to knew exactly how to play both instruments, and very well at that. It was just second nature for them. I am pretty sure they were all born with beautiful voices, singing Celine Dion when coming out of the womb. I assume this because we sang My Heart Will Go On and if I shut my eyes, I would have thought I was sitting with twelve Celine Dions.
We sang songs for hours. Western songs and aboriginal ones. They never let Ofer and I feel like we weren’t apart of the tribes. They proceeded to teach us all the aboriginal songs, giving us specific lines to sing, ensuring we never felt excluded. They brought out beer for everyone to drink, and never let my bottle get empty before replacing it with another. I was overwhelmed with the amount of hospitality.
They shared their lives with us and we shared ours with them. They taught me how to speak phrases from the aboriginal language, all the important stuff of course. Stuff I couldn’t really use in everyday life, considering it wasn’t every day that I was interacting with the tribe and also because what I learned to say wasn’t the best conversation starter.
After a couple of hours, a man on a scooter arrives. With bags and bags of fried food and a lot of cans of beer. Did beer and fried food seriously just get delivered to me on a scooter? This is a complete game changer… I am totally bringing this to the states. Taiwanese people love fried food. We had calamari, chicken, rice soaked in pig’s blood, and a large amount of other things I couldn’t even begin to guess what they were.
We stuffed our faces in between songs and chugging beer. They continued to ask me “Haley, are you doing ok?” and “Haley, everything is good?” all throughout the night, making sure I was having the time of my life. Trust me, I couldn’t have imagined a better night.
They did this thing with a bunch of western songs that really blew me away; they began singing an extremely long mash-up. One guy started singing; he started with Adele. Everybody jumped in singing along for only about thirty seconds. Then, the next person started singing a John Mayer song for about twenty seconds. The next guy picked his song and continued with the pattern. They would sing just as much of the lyrics that they knew, then they would switch songs.
Then, somebody picked Where is the Love? by The Black Eyed Peas. Everyone knew the tune but not much of the words. I went to a Black Eyed Peas concert when I was in sixth or seventh grade, so let me tell ya, I knew this song. I start belting it out. Everyone is cheering for me, making me feel like I am Fergie singing this song. They would have made me feel much better if they continued to sing along with me, instead of diverting all the attention to me. But nonetheless, I was feeling pretty darn good.
That was kind of bad idea on my part because now they wanted me to sing every song. They passed Ofer the guitar, and insisted I sing. Ofer immediately starts playing, and I’m not gonna leave him hanging so I start tapping the table along to his guitar. He starts singing Jack Johnson, and I join in. All of our new Taiwanese friends think it is just awesome.
The music never stops. We play and sing for hours and hours. It was one of those nights where you’d do absolutely anything just to make it last for forever.
I notice that a lot of the people we are hanging out with have really beautiful tribal tattoos that look similar. I ask everyone about them, and they tell me about a lady who hand pokes tattoos for all of the local people in Taitung. I am as intrigued as one can be, so they give me her contact information. This may or may not be some foreshadowing for my next post.
It started to rain, so we started to hit the road. Because I rode down in a car, I didn’t think to bring a jacket. Ofer arrived to Taitung by his scooter, which was how I was getting back. Being the gentleman that he is, Ofer gave me his jacket to wear back on the cold windy ride up north. I felt pretty bad because I was the idiot who was wearing a tank top, with no sweater. But I was extremely grateful. I was grateful for the jacket, and for inviting me to one of the best nights I have had in Taiwan.