"Just take the best out of both worlds," my mother would often tell me. "Take the good from both cultures and ignore all the bad parts." Easier said than done.

I have tried to do the best I could, to take the best out of both worlds, and I realize now how fortunate I am--to have been a part of both worlds--to have been a part of both the East and the West.

Having been born and raised in the US, I have come to value independence, individuality, freedom of thought and freedom of expression. I have been taught to think for myself and to challenge authority when I think it's wrong.

My parents, however, instilled in me a value for hard work, honesty, and education. It was never okay for me to get anything but straight A's while my friends would be praised by their parents for getting a B. My parents also raised me to respect other human beings, especially my elders, and to cherish family and community.

In the East, it seems to me that people compete to see who can give the most, whereas in the West, people compete to see who can get the most. Both societies are changing, of course--and it seems to me that they are becoming more and more like one another.

During my five months studying Mandarin in Taipei, I have witnessed a great deal of human generosity from the people in Taiwan.

An elderly man gave me NT$12 on the bus when I realized I had forgotten to bring change. When I offered to give him my NT$100 dollar bill in exchange, he just waved me off.

A college schoolgirl in uniform offered to accompany me in a taxi back to the youth hostel where I am staying--when I got lost my first few days in Taipei and could hardly read a word of Mandarin.

A man on his motorcycle yelled out to me just last week as I crossed a busy intersection, informing me that my backpack pocket was open and that my wallet had fallen onto the pavement.

These are examples of the human goodness and generosity I have seen from the people of Taiwan. It is a generosity and goodness that I find a bit incredible (from my Western perspective), in the midst of a chaotic, overcrowded city full of pollution, traffic snarls, and construction work.

I have also enjoyed chatting with people who work at the noodle stands, tea shops, and fruit-shake stands. The people here are full of warmth. I like how neighbors visit one another and greet each other warmly in the streets, where they sometimes sit around, chatting.

From my Western perspective, there are also many aspects of Taiwanese life that I do not like, and I will state them honestly.

I did not like witnessing an elderly lady striking at her grand-daughter with a large, wooden umbrella, while I was walking down Shita Road one evening on my way home from class. I wanted to tell her to stop, although she probably would have told me to mind my own business.

I find it difficult to accept that teachers here hit children in school if they misbehave or score too low on a test. My upbringing has led me to believe that it is wrong to hit children and that there are other ways of disciplining children in school that are effective.

I do not enjoy walking along the broken-up sidewalks in Taipei, having to look behind me all the time, in fear that a motorscooter might come whizzing by all of a sudden.

Nor do I like the pushing and shoving of people before getting on a crowded train or in front of a sales counter, waiting to pay for something.

It pains me to see the stray dogs in the street--the ones with mangy fur, skin diseases, broken legs, and hungry eyes, the ones who watch me hesitantly when I throw them food, perhaps because they have been kicked or abused before.

The United States has its share of ugliness, as well. It isn't entirely a rich man's paradise or a land full of nothing but affluence and beauty, as some Taiwanese people seem to imply when they ask me, "It's better in the US, isn't it?"

No. There are homeless people in the streets of San Francisco, who sleep on park benches and collect junk in shopping carts. There are teenagers who shoot each other with guns, perhaps because they have nothing more exciting to do that day. And there are also people who look at others and judge them with prejudiced eyes because they are different.

Sometimes I feel as if I belong to neither country. "You're not American," I've had people tell me before, although I think and talk just like one.

On the other hand, I could never fit into Taiwanese society. I think and act too differently. I feel like a foreigner and identify with other foreigners in Taipei. I feel a sense of familiarity when I am with other Taiwanese people, yet there are communication and cultural barriers which keep us apart.

But I speak Taiwanese, thankfully, because my parents speak it at home. My mother and I continue to communicate in Taiwanese.

But to be frank, I am glad I wasn't born and raised in Taiwan. From what I have observed, I am glad I was not put through the grueling education system in Taiwan that gives its students limited choices. I admire the hard work and discipline of students here, but I also cherish mv childhood in America--where I was given plenty of time to play and to think creatively.

The children here, it seems, have little time to play under the pressures of the test system-- where their whole futures lie in one big test--one university entrance exam. They spend all their spare time at bushibans [private "cram" schools].

I am also grateful that I was given the choice to study what I wanted to at university, to follow what was in my heart (despite my mother's protests) and to be an English literature major and a writer. I was given the freedom to shape my future, not told what to be, based on a test.

And my US education taught me to be an independent thinker, not simply to memorize and recite. I learned how to be open-minded and to get involved with life, not simply watch it pass by.

I may be wrong about a lot of things. I may have no right to judge that which I do not fully know. I have only lived in Taipei, after all, for five months. But I do know that there are parts of Taiwanese culture that I like and dislike, as well as parts of American culture that I like and dislike. Neither one is superior to the other.

When I first arrived in Taipei, I had a terrible shock. On the surface, all I could see was a world full of noise, pollution, and an overcrowded chaos. After five months here, I realize that Taipei has actually grown on me, and I will miss it.

I will miss the color and excitement of the night markets, where you can buy any kind of food at a minute's notice; I will miss the stray dogs who trot along beside me in the streets at night and, yes-- even the flow of traffic. Most of all, I will miss the people I have met here, and their warmth and human generosity. The West may have wider roads and more advanced technology, but I think Westerners could learn a lot from the Taiwanese about community and human generosity.

My mother was right when she said I ought to take the best from both worlds. It isn't easy. The two are entirely different, and yet the same. Thinking about it, I do, indeed, have the best of both worlds. Thanks to my parents.