'I was standing in a bank when the earthquake happened'

I REMEMBER my teary-eyed girlfriend as we waved goodbye to our weepy parents. "That's it," I thought. "We're doing it now, like it or not." Fifteen hours, and a few awful airline movies later, we were creeping up on the peaks of central Taiwan, and then through the cloud into the busy, exciting, neon mayhem of Taipei - our home for a year.

We were starting jobs doing something we had never done before in a country we didn't know. It was a strange feeling, a mix of anxiety, excitement and fear. And it was a feeling that I've had quite a few times since.

I graduated from Sheffield University in 2003 but wasn't ready to get on the career ladder. At 21, I wanted a challenge, something new. This was the best time to do something like this, without the worries of mortgages or children.

So, after my girlfriend Catherine graduated last summer, we set off to teach English for a year in Taipei. We left England in mid-October, and within a week-and-a-half of our arrival we had started teaching.

To me, Taiwan was a label on the back of cheap toys. It still is very industrial, but the place is turning itself slowly into a tourist-friendly, exciting destination, with the capital, Taipei, trying its best to be vibrant.

The pride of all Taiwan at the moment is Taipei 101, the newly-crowned tallest building in the world, which was opened to the public on New Year's Eve. Its 101 storeys dominate the hazy skyline. We've decided to wait until good weather is guaranteed before getting in the fastest lift in the world to see the best view the country has to offer.

Taiwan is a fascinating place, but it struggles to find an identity. It's still officially a province of China, but Taiwanese politicians keep hinting that it should be independent - much to the anger of Beijing. Rumour has it there are a few hundred missiles trained on Taipei, just to make sure this rogue province doesn't play up too much. Taiwanese people have varied opinions on the issue, but are, for the time being, happy with the fact that they are part of a booming economy.

On our first evening, exploring the streets around our rather seedy hotel, the city was a bustling, flashing, noisy melee. Some of the smells of the fresh food being cooked on the streets are amazing. Granted, there are some smells that creep up the nostrils that can put you off food for hours.

I was standing in a bank queue when the earthquake happened. I saw bank staff smile at each other, as phones began to wobble on desks and the pot plant beside me shook. I turned around coolly to Catherine, who was sitting in the waiting area, and mouthed "earthquake".

She smiled and nodded, oblivious to the earth moving beneath her very feet. Again, but this time slower and with hand movements I said: "e-a-r-t-h-q-u-a-k-e!" "Yes it is, isn't it?" she replied with a smile on her face. I was amazed by her indifference, her pioneer's aplomb. Why wasn't she scared?

Later she confessed she thought I was complaining about the length of time it took to get served.

In a training manual given to us before we arrived, there's a graph illustrating how our emotions would fluctuate during the first six months of our stay in Taiwan. It starts with a peak - the excitement of a new country - followed by a trough as realisation of where you are hits you. Then comes a plateau, when you settle in, then another trough and so on. Our second forecasted trough was due to coincide with Christmas, and if we believed the "morale graph", this was going to be a tough period.

The Taiwanese, like many Asian cultures, recognise Christmas, without really celebrating it. From the start of December the decorations started to go up in shops, in the school and on the street. The Taiwanese like the sound of Christmas, so decide to join in on the party, and they do it well.

For a month all the bus drivers happily went about their jobs wearing full Santa costumes, including fake beard. At school we were told to have "Christmas lessons", but most of the children didn't know the vocabulary, so wrote letters to "The Christmas old man" instead.

One day, I was asked to go into a kindergarten class dressed as Santa and give children presents, but I had to wait a few minutes before doing so, in order for the teacher to explain that a bearded man was going to come into the classroom and start shouting, and not to be scared of him. The kids weren't fooled by the beard though - and to this day they still point and call me "Santa" when they see me.

On Christmas Eve after work we had our staff party at school. All the Taiwanese staff made a real effort to make Christmas special, even to the extent of ordering in a freshly roasted turkey. The more eccentric Taiwanese staff thought it funny to make everyone play a game with "foreplay dice", with words like "lick" and "kiss" on one die and "nose" and "lips" on the other. This prompted terrible visions in my head of

being made to nibble the ear of my school manager.

Thankfully, I was spared any embarrassing forfeit.

We ate a Christmas lunch in a small cafe in Taipei before heading home, via a few bars, to open the large parcels sent by our family. It was strange being in the city and seeing people going about their normal weekend activities, many of them oblivious to the fact that today was Christmas Day.

We decided to have a barbecue on New Year's Eve. It was a bitterly cold, windy evening and by no means barbecue weather, but when has that stopped any other Englishman?

ON the day after New Year's Day, the decorations disappeared, and there wasn't a Santa in sight. Christmas was boxed away and forgotten for another year. It was a very bizarre Christmas, the first time I hadn't been at home with my family, but it was memorable for the same reason, and I'm happy to have been in Taiwan.

People are now starting to look forward to Chinese New Year, in February, when children can expect to receive red envelopes filled with bundles of cash from their relatives.

The tables turn when the children grow up and get jobs though, they have to send the red envelopes to their older family members, leaving them out of pocket for weeks after.

I still feel like I haven't quite become accustomed to Taiwan. The roads are my personal nemesis. They are especially dangerous places. A green man may flash on a pedestrian crossing, but it doesn't stop the odd taxi, scooter or bus from swinging round the corner, sending pedestrians dashing for the pavement.

Even the pavements aren't safe: I have found myself playing chicken with a scooter on more than one occasion.

I live and work in a city called San Chong, just across the river from Taipei. I work in a cram school. Taiwanese parents push their children hard, and after a day at normal school, those who can afford it will send their children to cram English in the evening.

Taiwanese children are not as shy and retiring as I anticipated. Most study hard and enjoy classes. And I'm beginning to find my feet - it's easy to get lost in a place where you don't recognise any of the writing, or any of the sounds. But it's starting to feel like home.