Many years ago, before direct flights opened across the Strait, an elder traveled to Shanghai. Upon returning to the Republic of China (R.O.C.), he criticized Mainland China relentlessly, citing filth, disorder, and unhygienic food.
Recently, however, that same elder has been working in the Mainland. Now, he expresses pain at how far Taiwan has fallen behind. The rapid development in the Mainland has created a gap that is only widening.
When he first complained, I was only in the fifth grade and absorbed his “first-hand data” without question. It wasn’t until 2010, when our family traveled to Beijing in January, that my perspective was shattered. The grand scale of Beijing Capital International Airport—the “gateway to the nation”—struck me like a physical blow, breaking the frosted glass that had obscured the true face of the Mainland.
The airport’s majesty was one thing, but the city itself was equally shocking. The urban planning was orderly, with skyscrapers piercing the clouds. The hutong culture made me feel like I was in a martial arts novel, while the management of historical sites and automated tour systems far surpassed Taipei’s infrastructure at the time.
Comparison: Returning to Taiwan Feels Like Returning to a Primitive Society
As the Lunar New Year approached, my wife joked: “Moving from China back to Taiwan feels like returning to a primitive society.” It’s true. Once you adapt to the speed and convenience of the Mainland, everything in Taiwan—which requires physical movement for every task—feels incredibly outdated.
Network technology is the most glaring example. If you locked a Taiwanese business owner and a Mainland business owner in a house for a month, the Mainlander would continue their life and business seamlessly via a smartphone. The Taiwanese owner, however, would starve. In Taiwan, phones are for news, Facebook, and PTT—they have few other functions. This is the “warm yet laughably primitive” reality of Taiwan’s society.
Smartphone Capabilities: Mainland China vs. Taiwan
In the Mainland, a smartphone can do almost anything except eat or sleep for you. Here is the stark contrast:
- Transport & Payment:
- Mainland: Hail a car via an app (with transparent pricing) and pay with a tap.
- Taiwan: Still relies on physical hailing or inefficient methods.
- Banking:
- Mainland: Transfer money in one second via an app. Banks rarely have queues.
- Taiwan: Visit a bank, take a number, wait in line, or use an ATM.
- Business Communication:
- Mainland: Send business files and assign work via QQ or WeChat.
- Taiwan: Still relies on email followed by a phone call to confirm receipt.
- Dining:
- Mainland: Select a restaurant, book a table, and order through an app (often with discounts). Pay via phone.
- Taiwan: People still proudly pull out credit cards to settle the bill.
- Entertainment:
- Mainland: Buy movie tickets and select seats while on the way.
- Taiwan: Stand in a crowd to buy tickets and say, “Look, we are so civilized because we queue.”
- Medical Services:
- Mainland: Register and make appointments with specific times via an app.
- Taiwan: Still physically go to the hospital to swipe a card for registration.
- Utilities & Bills:
- Mainland: Traffic fines, gas, water, and electricity are all paid with a few taps.
- Taiwan: Take cash to a service center or a convenience store to pay.
The “primitive” nature of Taiwan extends to every detail of life. In the Mainland, the internet is a lifestyle; it is the platform for work and life. Even roadside barbecue stalls accept QR code payments.
Many Taiwanese in the Mainland remain “frogs in a well” because they stay in their own circles. I am different; my clients and friends are local. I can feel the advancement of the Mainland and the painful stagnation of the R.O.C. My wife once joked that God forgot about Taiwan—it feels tragically accurate.
Observations from a “Taipei Girl” in Beijing
Guo Xueyun, a young woman from Taipei, notes that Cross-Strait exchange is often hindered because people “only want to hear what they already know and agree with.” After moving to Beijing for graduate school in 2011, she realized that while Mainland students in Taiwan often write about their experiences, Taiwanese students in the Mainland rarely do.
“Taipei and Kaohsiung are different, let alone the vastness of the Mainland,” she says. When friends ask about the Mainland, she specifies that she can only speak for Beijing, Shanghai, or the Northeast.
When criticized for only saying good things, she retorts: “The media in Taiwan always talks about crowded subways or spitting. If you want that, just watch the news. Mainland students write about the good parts of Taiwan, even though Taiwan has people spitting betel nut juice and reckless scooters. If you’re still complaining about that after six months, you’re just annoying. Look at the good things so you can improve yourself.”
Guo observes that Mainland “soft power”—dramas like Empresses in the Palace or hit songs like Little Apple—has already conquered Taiwan. From night markets to the Riverside in Tamsui, the context of life is becoming more similar. “The tastes of the Chinese nation,” she says, “remain remarkably consistent.”