What We Found In Taiwan (Featuring Sam Reeves)
- Michelle Thurber
- Jul 19
- 8 min read
On our last day in Taipei, I recorded a conversation with my friend Sam while we were in an Uber to Tianmu Historic Trail in our final attempt to find monkeys.
Sam: "We've been incredibly unsuccessful thus far." Me: "Yeah, we've been failing..."
Sam: "...and everyone's doubting us."
Me: "Sam's leaving tomorrow so if this doesn't work out then..." Sam: "I guess I'm cancelling my flight. And going to the south of Taiwan where they have monkeys."
The stakes were high. We had people to prove wrong. According to Google Reviews, Tianmu Historic Trail had monkeys. That had to mean we'd find them. And we'd timed our excursion to match prime monkey time too. We'd be arriving about an hour before sunset, when they were supposedly most active.
While finding monkeys had been a Taiwan goal for us (and particularly for Sam) before we even left for Taiwan, the real reason why we were there was to take part in Princeton's Global Seminar program in Taiwan, a 6-week study abroad program. A few days each week, we had morning seminar and afternoon Mandarin class, and the program culminated in an 8-page research paper on a topic of our choice.
I met Sam and the other members of our study abroad cohort before we all landed in Taiwan, but only briefly for a couple of pre-departure ice breaker events on campus. In retrospect, I don't think we really needed ice breakers about majors and favorite pets. When you're thrown into a new country with a bunch of strangers and forced to spend all your time around them, you have no choice but to get to know them.
Me: "Are there any moments that you feel particularly stand out from the summer?" Sam: "I loved the first wine cafe night. Playing We're Not Really Strangers, I loved that. Honestly, I kinda do like trauma bonding moments, like the bus back from Jiufen."
Me: "It was just a crazy driver, right?"
Sam: "It was a crazy driver, then a lady started puking."
Me: "Oh I did not see that. I'm really glad I didn't see that."
Sam: "I was with Elijah. I feel like Elijah and I really bonded in that moment."
At Princeton, maybe you see someone once a week for a catch-up meal, or you wave hi as you pass them in a library but don't say more so as to not disturb their studying. It's put-together, planned, part of a routine. It's definitely not, say, watching someone puke together while being thrown around by an aggressive bus driver.
Study abroad expedites depth of friendship. That certainly can be said of my friendship with Sam; within six weeks, we saw each other in a plethora of bizarre situations, learning more about each other than I thought possible in a month and a half.
Over the course of many excursions together, or "side quests" as Sam calls them, I saw Sam in prime gift-buying and bargaining form (again, something I probably would've never seen at Princeton). One of our favorite side quests was a trip we made together after class to a local antique market, where Sam meticulously picked up and put down stunningly hand-painted tea leaf holders while I chatted with the shopkeeper.
Me: "He liked to talk."
Sam: "He loved to talk about tea leaf holders."
Me: "He really did. He was funny too because he kept talking about how trustworthy he was...He would answer your questions very honestly, then he'd be like oh you've gotta watch out with the other dealers, they might not tell you this is printed instead of painted... And that first time we went, at the end he was like just make sure you take your time before you buy one, I'll be here, you can come back. Go, go look at other places and compare it to my stuff and then come back later."
Sam: "I remember you telling me that, and I was like gosh dang it, I have to come back now. He was very sweet."
When we did come back, and when Sam did eventually buy a tea leaf holder from him and attempted to bargain the price down $500 NTD, the shopkeeper gave in immediately and told me how impressed he'd been with how carefully and thoughtfully Sam had picked one out. "Young people don't care enough about antiques these days," he told me in Chinese.
The frequency of my one-on-one excursions with Sam did not happen intentionally—in fact, my classmates and I often marveled about how shockingly not cliquey our cohort was over the course of the summer. To Sam and I, who were both coming off of a year of being club sport presidents, it seemed like unnaturally utopian human dynamics. Fourteen of the fifteen of us trekked to Hualien together for our second-to-last weekend of the seminar. All the way through the last day, for notable plans and excursions, everyone was invited.
What I found in Sam though was a mirror for my emotional struggles with being abroad and away from loved ones, as well as a perfect match in study habits (a match sometimes in the lack thereof). Our lives felt like they had run parallel to one another up until we'd met. Together, we were rising seniors running around Taiwan for six weeks, trying to reconcile loss of old relationships with tenuous new ones, making sense of gains in self-confidence with loss of it from junior years that challenged us in exceedingly difficult ways.
Me: "Do you feel like there were any ways this trip was easier than last summer for you? Just starting at a different place, probably? Maturity and life experience?"
Sam: "Yeah, for sure. I knew what to expect academically. I flew internationally for the first time last year. So that was big. Or, I don't know, language barriers. You kind of just get through them. Public transportation. Being alone. Going places you don't necessarily feel comfortable. Those kinds of things, once you've done them a few times, you get used to it and you just go for it. I definitely think this trip was a lot easier in that way. You figure out how to do it. Like, this is the time I need to spend by myself, and this is the time I need to spend with people, and it's okay to not be with people 24/7."
Both Sam and I had traveled alone internationally for the first time for study abroad programs last summer too, which had taught us to embrace discomfort. We both came out more confident, more independent, and more sure of ourselves and our ability to improvise under unfamiliar circumstances.
Of course, for all that we could adjust to, there was still a lot that we couldn't quite get used to. Food was a little different, for one. The only thing Sam and I looked for more than monkeys over the course of this trip was salads.
Me: "What's the longest amount of time you think you could live in Taiwan?"
Sam: "I could live here for a year or two. But I think the hardest part would be distance from friends and family."
Me: "And no salads."
Sam: "And no salads, oh gosh... No forks. Ice water, I'm really missing ice water."
Sam and I bought matching t-shirts that say "Healthy Life, Green Veggies!" on the front and have a bunch of veggies on the back. The best part of the shirt is that most of the veggies on the back aren't veggies, and many of the ones that were veggies aren't even green. (See photo below and draw your own conclusions.)
Most of the food experiences were fantastic though, of course. Sam was there with me for virtually all of my favorite food experiences in Taiwan too. My personal favorite food experience was a cheap and local one: there was this donut stand right near campus that was quite literally the best thing I've ever eaten. It was freshly made, coated in strawberry powdered sugar, with the chewiness of a mochi donut but the shape of a regular one.
Sam: "First donut, oh my gosh. That donut changed my life."
Me: "I'm going to remember that moment where... I think it was one after the other, you, me, and Elijah took a bite into it and then we were like... this is the best thing I've ever eaten."
Sam: "Ana was with us and didn't get one..." Me: "...and yeah she got such bad FOMO."
Sam: "I don't even think we overreacted."
We definitely did not overreact. I will literally talk about this donut for the rest of my life.
When Sam and I were only a few minutes away from Tianmu Historic Trail, I stopped recording our conversation and let it settle back into its natural rhythm. I thanked her for letting me record—it had been an interesting experience to reflect on our time together in Taiwan under a bit of pressure, knowing what we said would be immortalized in audio recording. It had felt nice, actually—rich, intentional. As we talked about the memories, I felt them play back in my head like they'd just happened.
We then spent about an hour and a half looking for monkeys up on the trail. Signs on the trail were adorned with cute monkey images, accompanied by warnings of "don't feed the monkeys" and "don't stare at the monkeys" lest they attack you.
Unfortunately, we did not even have the chance to be attacked by monkeys because they did not reveal themselves to us. Our scientific conclusion was that Taiwan does not actually have monkeys, because we tried so hard and still did not find them.
I knew, though, that no matter how much Sam and I joked about how we needed to see monkeys to complete our Taiwan trip together, it would've been fun to look for them with her regardless of the outcome. The comment we made the most after "where are these dang monkeys?" was something like "wow, I can't believe we're here." Two 21-year-old American girls in a Taiwanese jungle together, lucky simply to have shared so many incredible experiences with each other.
After we made our way back down, we stood for a few minutes at the trailhead, reflecting on friendship as we stared into the purple-blue skyline and shimmering Taipei lights.
Gazing out into the distance, I felt peace settle over me and mused in my head about the romance of the view, how lovers might come to a spot like this to be with each other away from the chaos of the city.
"I feel like we're about to be murdered," said Sam.
"Really? I was about to say this is so romantic," I said. We both laughed.
"Maybe we aren't the same person after all." Sam sees a horror movie where I see a La La Land set, perhaps, but I swear most of the time we're on the same page.
To my global seminar classmates and friends: Thank you for an unforgettable six weeks—your jokes, perspectives, stories, and warmth was exactly what I needed at this time of my life. To everyone else: I hope you were able to get a taste of the joy Sam and I experienced together and with the rest of the group over the last six weeks (and if you're thinking about studying abroad, do it!!!!).
With love,
Michelle
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