Being Belgian Living In Taiwan, I Discovered Many New And Special Things, So I Illustrated 100 Of Them

Move from Belgium to Taiwan and your life palette changes overnight. The waffles are suddenly scallion pancakes, the quiet, gray skies become neon-lit nights, and the most powerful force in your daily routine is no longer coffee… it’s the nearest 7-Eleven. For Belgian illustrator Liesbeth Cole, this cultural plot twist turned into a 100-day illustration challenge, capturing all the small, funny, and touching details of life in Taiwan through simple, charming drawings.

This article dives into that experience: what it feels like to swap chocolate for bubble tea, cobblestones for scooter lanes, and understated European habits for Taiwan’s warm, slightly chaotic energy. We’ll explore the everyday surprises that inspired those 100 illustrations, from night markets and convenience stores to typhoons and temple festivals, and why Taiwan is such a dream setting for an artist with curious eyes and a sketchbook.

A Belgian Heart Landing in Taiwan

From Beer and Fries to Bubble Tea and Bento

Belgium is famous for its medieval squares, strong beers, and a national passion for fries. Taiwan answers back with night markets, steamed buns, and an almost magical ability to fry anything and make it delicious. For a Belgian newcomer, this contrast is intense in the best possible way. Daily life in Taiwan revolves around food even more than in many European countries: steaming bowls of beef noodle soup, night-market snacks, and dessert shops on every corner.

It’s easy to see why food became a recurring theme in the illustrations. One drawing might show a Belgian stomach doing its best to keep up with stinky tofu, while another captures the joy of discovering pineapple cake or shaved ice piled higher than any Brussels waffle. The visual jokes practically draw themselves when your grocery store suddenly sells tea eggs by the pot and bubble tea in more flavors than you knew existed.

First Contact with Taiwan’s Famous Friendliness

Another shock for many Westerners, Belgians included, is how safe and welcoming Taiwan feels. People leave laptops on café tables, kids walk around night markets at midnight, and strangers will walk you to the right bus stop if you look remotely confused. For someone used to more reserved European habits, this warmth feels like stepping into a neighborhood where everyone quietly agreed to be nice.

In illustration form, that might become a sketch of a Belgian girl juggling grocery bags while a Taiwanese grandma wordlessly slips an umbrella into her hand because it might rain. Or a comic strip of the artist getting lost in a maze of alleys, only to be rescued by a convenience-store clerk armed with Google Maps and unlimited patience.

100 Days, 100 Illustrations: Turning Culture Shock Into a Visual Diary

The core of this story is a 100-day challenge: one illustrated observation about Taiwan every day. That structure is perfect for expat life. Culture shock doesn’t arrive as one grand moment; it trickles in through small scenesa scooter carrying an entire family, a temple parade with firecrackers exploding inches from your shoes, or the discovery that your trash is collected by a truck that plays cheerful music like an ice-cream van.

Instead of just journaling, Liesbeth turned these moments into clean, minimal line drawings with witty captions. Each illustration freezes a single scene: the contrast between Belgian habits and Taiwanese reality. Some images highlight differences (like the sheer number of scooters on the road), while others celebrate universal human feelingshomesickness, excitement, awkwardness, and joy.

Projects like this sit right at the intersection of travel diary, comic art, and cultural anthropology. They show how everyday life in Taiwan looks through European eyes, but without turning it into a stereotype. The Belgian point of view isn’t about judging; it’s about curiosity and affection, with a bit of self-deprecating humor when the artist fails spectacularly at using chopsticks, reading Chinese characters, or remembering to stand on the right side of the escalator.

Everyday Life in Taiwan Through Belgian Eyes

Night Markets: Taiwan’s Open-Air Living Rooms

Belgian cities have cozy cafés and Christmas markets, but Taiwan raises the bar with its legendary night markets. Imagine streets packed with food stalls, games, bright signs, and the smell of grilling, frying, and steaming everything. For many locals, heading to the night market is as normal as going to the supermarketit’s where you eat, shop, and people-watch in one go.

For an artist, these markets are visual overload: skewers of squid hanging like lanterns, rows of claw machines glowing in neon, kids balancing on tiny plastic stools, and entire families crowded around a single table of plastic plates. In a 100-day illustration project, night markets practically deserve their own mini-series: one drawing for stinky tofu, one for taro balls, one for candied strawberries, and one for the brave European who underestimated how spicy “a little bit of chili” can be.

Convenience Stores That Do Everything

Belgian corner shops typically sell snacks, drinks, and maybe a lottery ticket. Taiwan’s convenience storesespecially 7-Eleven and FamilyMartare in a totally different universe. You can pay your utility bills, pick up online orders, buy train tickets, grab hot meals, print documents, or microwave your late-night dinner. Many coffee chains would cry if they saw how good the convenience-store coffee is.

For a newcomer, convenience stores quickly become a second home. They’re where you hide from typhoon rain, wait for friends, or just stand there deciding which obscure flavor of instant noodles deserves your loyalty tonight. In cartoon form, you might see a Belgian character trying to use the multimachine kiosk, pressing buttons like it’s a video game while the patient clerk gently rescues them from printing a hundred bus tickets by mistake.

Scooters, Traffic, and Organized Chaos

If Belgium runs on bicycles and sensible sedans, Taiwan runs on scooters. At every red light in a major city, you’ll see a herd of scooters lined up at the front, ready to surge forward as soon as the light turns green. Entire families ride together, dogs perch on handlebars, and deliveries are stacked to improbable heights.

To a Belgian used to stricter road rules and quieter streets, it feels like watching a live-action video game. Yet somehow it works. That tension between “this looks wild” and “this is surprisingly safe” is perfect for illustration. One drawing might show the artist frozen on a crosswalk as a wave of scooters flows around her like water, captioned with a dry Belgian comment about “just popping out for bread.”

Language, Line, and the Art of Not Understanding

Switching from Dutch, French, or German to Mandarin (and traditional Chinese characters) is no small leap. Street signs become dense blocks of beautiful but incomprehensible shapes. Menus are suddenly puzzles unless they include pictures. Even ordering milk tea can feel like taking a short exam: sugar level, ice level, topping, sizegood luck.

For an illustrator, though, Chinese characters are irresistible. They have rhythm and balance; some look like tiny art prints all by themselves. A Belgian sketchbook quickly fills with copied characters, doodled shop signs, and speech bubbles full of “Huh?” as locals speak rapid Mandarin while the foreigner gamely responds with a tiny “xièxiè.” Drawings can capture the emotional truth of this in a way words struggle to: the mix of pride when you successfully order breakfast and the comedic panic when someone responds with an enthusiastic paragraph you don’t understand at all.

Festivals, Temples, and Typhoons

Taiwan’s calendar is packed with festivals that blend religion, tradition, and a love of noise and color. Temple parades with dragons and lions, clouds of incense, and drumbeats echoing through the alleys feel worlds away from quieter European religious ceremonies. Firecrackers crackle near your feet, offerings pile up on tables, and almost everything is accompanied by more food.

Typhoons are another dramatic part of life. Where Belgium complains about drizzle, Taiwan brings out official “typhoon days” with closed schools and offices, taped windows, and convenience stores running on backup supplies of instant noodles. In illustration, you can imagine a Belgian character taping an “emergency” stash of chocolate to the wall next to everyone else’s instant noodles and water, hoping both the storm and the homesickness pass quickly.

Art, Comics, and Finding a Place in Taiwan’s Creative Scene

Taiwan has a rich comics and illustration culture, influenced by Japanese manga but increasingly defined by local voices and international collaborations. Bookstores overflow with graphic novels, zines, and illustrated essays, and comic festivals draw artists from around the world. For a Belgian illustratorcoming from a country that also loves comicsthe overlap is almost poetic.

The 100-day project sits perfectly in this creative ecosystem. It’s personal but also universal, tying into broader trends of artists using comics and line art to document everyday life in different countries. For locals, it’s a fresh lens on familiar scenes. For foreign readers, it’s a friendly invitation into Taiwan’s daily rhythms, filtered through the dry wit and gentle self-mockery that Belgian creators do so well.

Why These Tiny Observations Matter

At first glance, a drawing of tea eggs or a sketch of a scooter parking lot might seem trivial. But stack 100 of these moments together and you get a surprisingly detailed portrait of a place. You see how public space works, what people eat, how they get around, and what they find funny or strange. You also see how a foreigner slowly shifts from confusion to familiarityfrom “What is going on?” to “Of course the trash truck plays music; how else would we know it’s coming?”

For Belgiansand really for anyone considering life in Taiwanthis kind of illustrated diary can be more helpful than a straightforward guidebook. It doesn’t just tell you that Taiwan is safe, convenient, and friendly; it shows you, panel by panel. And it shows that feeling out of place at first is normal, but so is eventually feeling at home.

Extra Experiences: If I Could Draw 100 More Days

Now imagine extending the project another 500 days. What else would a Belgian in Taiwan notice and want to draw?

Weather Whiplash and Wardrobe Confusion

Belgium has seasons, of course, but the humidity and temperatures in Taiwan play by different rules. Summers are hot enough to melt your European idea of “a nice warm day,” and winters are a humid chill that somehow sneaks into your bones even at 10–15°C. Locals bundle up in puffer jackets while the Belgian brain screams, “This is spring!” until it discovers how cold tile floors feel at night.

In illustration, this looks like a cartoon Belgian in shorts and a T-shirt shivering dramatically next to Taiwanese friends in stylish coats. Another drawing might show the yearly ritual of wrestling with the dehumidifier, that mysterious machine that hums away in the corner turning invisible air into a bucket of water that makes you question everything you know about physics.

LINE Stickers and the Art of Digital Conversation

Back home, messaging apps are practical. In Taiwan, LINE is practically its own universe. Stickers aren’t just cute extras; they’re a full emotional language. One sticker says “I’m sorry,” another says “I’m cheering you on,” a third says, “I’m dramatically crying over my bubble tea and I need sympathy immediately.”

For a Belgian who grew up with more understated digital habits, this sticker explosion is both delightful and overwhelming. The artist might draw herself scrolling through a sticker shop of thousands of animated animals, trying to choose one that says, “Thank you for lending me your umbrella, saving my life, and also I like your dog.” A whole mini-series could be dedicated to translating old-world politeness into modern LINE etiquette.

Family, Elders, and Respect in Daily Life

Another theme that becomes more visible the longer you stay is how deeply family life and respect for elders shape everyday interactions. Weekend restaurants fill with three-generation tables; older neighbors hand out fruit or snacks; and holidays like Lunar New Year revolve around visiting parents and grandparents. Compared with many Western countries where generations tend to live separately, this close interweaving of family feels both heartwarming and sometimes a little intimidating.

On the page, this might appear as a Belgian character nervously joining a huge family dinner, armed with a small box of chocolates from home as a token gift, only to be overwhelmed by the sheer amount of food and affection that arrives in response. The final panel: our Belgian wobbling home with containers of leftovers stacked higher than her head.

Finding “Home” in Two Places at Once

After a while, the biggest surprise isn’t Taiwan itselfit’s the realization that “home” has quietly expanded. You start craving scallion pancakes as much as Belgian fries. Belgian rain and Taiwanese typhoons both feel strangely familiar. You miss family in Europe but also miss your favorite noodle shop when you travel away from Taiwan.

That emotional double-exposure would make a beautiful final illustration: a split screen of two skylinesone European, one Taiwanesewith the same little Belgian figure doodled into both, holding a sketchbook open between them. On one page, you might see a Belgian square in gentle gray lines; on the other, a Taiwanese street with bright signs and scooters. The caption could be something simple like, “Two homes, one heart, 100 drawings (and counting).”

Ultimately, being Belgian in Taiwanand illustrating those “new and special things”is about learning to notice. Once you train yourself to see the details that make a place unique, the world becomes endlessly drawable. And whether you’re turning those moments into Bored Panda posts, Instagram panels, or a private sketchbook, you’re doing the same thing: honoring the weird, wonderful mix of confusion and joy that comes with building a life far from where you were born.

Conclusion: Why This Belgian–Taiwan Love Story Resonates

“Being Belgian living in Taiwan, I discovered many new and special things, so I illustrated 100 of them” isn’t just a catchy titleit’s a roadmap for how to fall in love with a foreign country. Notice the details, laugh at your own confusion, celebrate the small victories, and give yourself enough time (and pages) to document the journey.

For readers, these illustrations feel like a guided tour with a funny, honest friend. For Taiwan, they’re a heartfelt thank-you note drawn in ink instead of words. And for anyone sitting at home in Belgiumor anywhere elsewondering what life in Taiwan might be like, they offer a clear message: it’s different, it’s delightful, and if you bring an open mind (and maybe a sketchbook), you’ll never run out of things worth drawing.