In 1594 a Portuguese ship sighted the main island of Taiwan and dubbed it “Ilha Formosa,” which means “beautiful island.” Although Taiwan (formerly Formosa) has been part of the Chinese empire for a very long time, the aboriginal inhabitants are not even related to the Chinese, but came from the islands of the Pacific.

The Chinese only arrived in large numbers after 1600, when the Dutch East India Company established trading posts and forts on the island. After they defeated the Dutch in 1662, they gained control over the island and stayed until the end of the 19th century when the Japanese took over. They also left their mark on the island, remaining in control until after World War 2, when they were succeeded by Chiang Kai-shek and the Kuomintang.

How can I begin to write about my trip to Taiwan except to use the Portuguese word “Saudade”? “Saudade” is a word that envelopes so many emotions: nostalgia, longing, yearning, love, friendship, desire, etc. No other language has a word like it. Taiwan was once called “Formosa”, another Portuguese word which means “beautiful.”

I was last in Taiwan when my husband, Richard, served in Vietnam between 1968-1970. Our family was not allowed to go to Vietnam, so I went to Taipei, the capital of Taiwan, with my two young children. We were 180 wives with no husbands.

Since then Taiwan has changed so much that I did not know the place, but all for the better. It is a wealthy and vibrant island with hard working, polite people. They especially stress the importance of a good education for its youth.

I wanted to see my older sister, Amy, because her third son Michael had written to tell me she had been ill. It had been many years since I last saw her, as well as her three sons and their families. I did not want to linger over my decision for fear I might change my mind. I booked my ticket and left four days later. None of my family members could go with me, so I was quite nervous about flying half-way around the world alone. I had never gone anywhere without Dick, even on short trips. I closed my mind and refused to think negative thoughts, especially about the typhoon that was pounding the southern part of the island causing devastation and death.

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When my husband retired from the Foreign Service and the United Nations, we decided to visit our children, Jeffrey and Leslie, who were attending the University of Arizona in Tucson, Arizona. It didn’t take long before we fell in love with the area and its glorious sunsets, majestic mountains, strange looking cacti, but most of all, meeting the friendly people. This is where we wanted to spend our retirement years. An added bonus was having Mexico for our neighbor and a large Hispanic population, allowing us to speak Spanish every day.

After looking at more than thirty houses, we finally settled on a custom built home on Skyline Drive. I loved my new home, especially happy knowing that I could spend as much time as I needed in decorating it exactly the way I wanted – a luxury I had never experienced. For the previous twenty-five years, I knew that no matter how much I loved my house and the country I lived in, that two years later we would be moving to another country, and possibly even to another continent.

When I felt that everything was perfect, I decided to take the car and drive around the neighborhood to get acquainted with the side streets. I was driving down this narrow street, somewhere between Skyline Drive and River Road, listening to Ray Charles singing, “I can’t stop loving you.”

Suddenly, I heard a police siren and when I looked in the rear view mirror I saw a motorcycle policeman motioning for me to pull over.

This very handsome officer, who stood about six feet tall with disarming, pale blue eyes, poked his head in the car window. “Lady, do you know you are driving down a one way street going the wrong way? May I please see your driver’s license?”

I looked up at him with a very surprised look and said, “Wo bu dung Mei Kwo hwa, dwei bu chi” (meaning “I don’t speak American, I am so sorry”). He repeated what he said, and I repeated my answer. He scratched his chin, and with a suspicious look on his face he grinned before saying, “Lady, you can go. Just don’t do it again!”

I waited until he left and then decided to go home before I got into more trouble. That was the only time I’ve ever spoken to a policeman. I did not feel guilty, knowing that I did not commit a serious crime, but if I ever have to talk to a policeman again, I hope he will be as handsome and as kind as the one that first stopped me.