Relocating to a new country is often marketed as an adventure, but the physiological reality is often much closer to a 'sensory mutiny.' When I moved to Taipei, I found myself experiencing a profound level of disorientation that I hadn't felt in my previous moves to New Zealand or Australia. Interestingly, it was watching my cat, Tokyo, navigate her own terror of a new apartment that provided the clearest mirror for my own psychological process. The following reflection—written during my first weeks in Taiwan—captures that raw transition from the chaos of 'hiding' to the slow, intentional work of rebuilding a home within oneself.

A quick reflection on my very first days in Taipei

Introduction: a journey from chaos to reconciliation

The moment I first step out of our house, wearing her in my backpack, she yelled as she had never yelled in her life. The journey would take just forty five minutes, however it would feel like an eternity of pure confusion. The vibrations, the noises, the blur of the world past the window, the kids sharing the journey.

Her body was still stiff with fear, trembling uncontrollably when we arrive at the door. There was little time for exploration or eating or using toilet. All she could attempt was to find a hidden spot where to spend the next twenty four hours.

It took two weeks to explore the new place, to get to know her new flatties, to understand the new environment. The only constant she had: same food, same plate, same hour, same place.

As I write this reflection, mom sends me a picture of her napping on what once was my chair, now inherited by my dad. Then another with her looking out of the window. She now owns the house like it was always hers. My pet cat Tokyo has adapted to this new life.

Initial chaos: sensory discomfort, disorganized perception.

The coloured path of the airport after walking through the large hallways. The ocean of people, the blabing.

The train, the colour coded signs, the crowd yet the silence. It is dark outside. Taipei remains secret.

Arrived at the station. Maybe I should walk. Where? All I see is unclear and confusing.

Made my way to the hostel, I call it a day. I hide. I will face the unknown later.

The heat, the humidity, the unstoppable perspiration.

The hanzi, the signs on the buildings, the hanzi and more hanzi. Colours again, all over the street, all over the city. Thirty years of study gone. I am fully illeterate from now on.

The movement of the bodies. What are they doing?

A constant ticking on every corner. Street crossing queuing.

An ocean of motorbikes. A roar on the streets that accompanies the uncomprehensible babling of the people.

A simple task: getting some food. A convenience store renders unconvenient. Packages are a mistery. Flavours are alien. But all of them? how is that even possible? The ultimate challenge: eat a chicken thigh with chopsticks.

Tour the city: where's coffee? what's that fetid smell coming from food trucks? The lights, the tide of people, the noise. Why on earth there are no rubbish bins around?

The heat. OMG, the heat! It's so heavy, all day long, all night long. There's no refuge.

Going underground: what is this maze? The waltz of people boarding the train.

The heat. The heat. The heat.