It took me 20 years to finally see clearly what those old Taiwanese trucks used to sell.

Text & Photos /European North Travel Observation Diaryby Tsai Fuda

It took over twenty years for me to truly see what was on those trucks.

From afar came the loud broadcast voices: “Window screens, door screens, glass replacements~~~~~”, “Sesame oil chicken, barrel chicken, lily bulb and garlic chicken~~~~~”, “Shaved ice, rice vermicelli ice, tapioca ice~~~~~.”

How long has it been since I heard those street vendors’ truck announcements?

I remember after school in elementary, after running and exercising, I had to get home before five o’clock. The old man riding a tricycle would come by loaded with cool frozen treats, and I’d always order a bowl of tapioca ice, then chat with other kids from the neighborhood who came to buy ice too. We’d trade different flavors, pull out our “monster fighting game” to battle, or kick around a shuttlecock.


Nearby, there would also be aunties, grandmas, and moms who’d put out their trash by the door, order a bowl of ice while waiting for the garbage truck that would arrive in half an hour, chatting about how mischievous their kids were or the funny things they did at school.

It was through that little vehicle that people connected with one another.

When traveling in tribal villages, around three or four in the afternoon, trucks loaded with all kinds of daily necessities would appear. Meat, vegetables, seafood, fruit, rice, oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, tea, toilet paper, or even ready-to-eat snacks and hot meals. The driver would step down and start chatting with the local residents. People would take what they needed and leave money on the truck, making change themselves if needed, then continue chatting. This scene felt like watching a “historical moment” replayed, warming my heart.

I remembered childhood, the little boy I promised to trade ice flavors with but ended up eating most of his share; the chatter of the neighborhood women; the version of me who’d throw a tantrum when my monster lost in the game; I remembered that simple and genuine flow of emotion between people.

Although we now enjoy great convenience, what we gain comes with loss; the taken-for-granted aspects of life quietly disappear without us even noticing.

Little truck, where are you? I miss you just a little.

Only then did I realize, that little truck was carrying nothing less than the innocence of childhood.