And yet almost every one of those people, if you ask about their first six months, will describe a stretch of being quite alone. Both of these are true, and the reason they are both true is the most useful thing I can tell you.

My first few months here, I was really trying to read and hear between the lines. To understand what people meant when they said things, whether it was in a meeting room or talking to a cashier at 7-11, and to work out the standard procedure for how things were done here, the so-called SOP. That is a strange kind of tiredness, and it is not one you can explain easily to friends back home, because on paper nothing bad is happening to you.

It was never reluctance

The mistake I made early on was reading the gap as distance. You meet people who are visibly warm, who go out of their way for you, who invite you to things, and then somehow it does not compound into the kind of friendship where someone texts you on a Tuesday. It is easy to conclude that there is an inner circle you are not being admitted to.

That is not what is happening. What is happening is that friendship needs a shared medium, and for most of the people around you that medium is Mandarin or Taiwanese, not English. Your colleague who is generous and funny with her friends becomes careful and quiet in English, because she is doing the work of translation while you are doing none of it. Add to that the ordinary reference points that friendships are built from, the childhood shows, the school pressure everyone survived, the family logic of a Lunar New Year visit, and the unwritten rules I spent my first months trying to decode. It is not that people are keeping you out. They are meeting you at the edge of what can be carried across.

This is genuinely good news, because a gap made of language and shared reference is a gap that closes. Reluctance would not close. This does, in both directions, faster than you would think.

The arithmetic that reframed it for me

A researcher at the University of Kansas tried to put numbers on friendship a few years ago, surveying hundreds of adults who had recently moved to a new city and asking how many hours they had spent with people they met after the move. The thresholds he landed on were roughly fifty hours together before someone becomes a casual friend, ninety before they are properly a friend, two hundred or more before you would call them close.

The detail worth keeping is that not all hours count equally. Time spent working next to someone barely registers. He found people who had logged hundreds of hours with a colleague and still called them an acquaintance. What counts is time doing something together with no purpose beyond doing it. Eating, walking, playing, sitting around after.

I found this liberating rather than depressing, because it explains the first six months without anyone having to be at fault. Nobody is rejecting you. You have simply not yet spent the hours, and neither has anyone else, because you arrived three months ago and everyone else has had their Wednesday evenings booked since university.

It also explains why the standard advice to newcomers underdelivers. A drinks night three hours long, every quarter, where you meet a fresh set of faces each time, adds up to about twelve hours a year spread across dozens of people. Those evenings are generous and I have enjoyed plenty of them. They are just not the machine that produces the Tuesday text message, and it is worth knowing that going in so you do not read the outcome as a verdict on yourself or on Taiwan.

Share

What actually accumulates hours

Once you see it as hours rather than chemistry, the answer becomes almost boringly practical. You want something that repeats on a fixed day, has an activity at its centre, and involves roughly the same people each time.

Running groups. Climbing gyms where the same faces appear after work. Badminton and basketball, both of which this country plays constantly. A choir, a cooking class that runs for twelve weeks rather than one afternoon, a temple or church community, a volunteer roster, a Toastmasters club, a language exchange that survives past the third meeting. None of it is aimed at foreigners, which is exactly why it works.

The quiet advantage of these settings is that they do not require you to be interesting. The activity carries the encounter. You are not performing across a language gap over a loud bar; you are running, or belaying, or chopping something, and the talking happens sideways in the gaps. That is also, conveniently, the format in which your Mandarin improves fastest, because the vocabulary is concrete and repeated and attached to things you are physically doing.

People here generally appreciate you showing up consistently. As long as you make the effort to communicate and they can see that you are willing to blend in, you will feel accepted. It goes both ways. I have been to running clubs and to church, and people are trying to help. I made a lot of friends at church, and they even stood by me during my rough times here. For that, I really appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.

That last part is the thing I would most want a newcomer to understand. The people who carried me through my hardest stretch in Taiwan were not people I met at a networking event. They were people who saw me every week for long enough to notice when something was wrong.

Go four times

The rule I give everyone now is to commit to four visits before deciding anything.

The first time you will feel like you are intruding and you will leave early. The second time someone will recognise you, which registers as nothing at the moment and is in fact everything. By the third or fourth, a conversation will resume rather than start, and that resumption is the whole mechanism. Most people go once, judge the experience on that single visit, and conclude it is hard to get to know people here. It is not hard. It is slow at the start and then it accelerates, and almost everybody quits during the slow part.

Pick one thing rather than five. One you can genuinely sustain on a wet Wednesday in November.

The Mandarin, honestly

I arrived speaking Mandarin, so I want to be careful not to prescribe from a comfortable position. But I have watched enough people do this without the language to say something useful about it.

I have friends from France and the United States who have been here more than five years and have a mixed circle of local friends and friends from other countries. None of them arrived fluent. They started using the language badly, early, in low-stakes places, and let the group carry them.

That is the pattern I keep seeing. The people who thrive here are almost never the ones who waited until their Mandarin was good enough. A running club will happily absorb someone with forty words of Mandarin if that person keeps showing up and keeps trying. What people respond to is not fluency, it is the visible willingness to meet halfway, because it signals that you are here rather than passing through. Friendships form on both sides of a very partial vocabulary, held together mostly by patience and repetition.

And the return on it compounds in a way that surprises people. The warmth was always there. Language is what lets it land somewhere.

This is one person’s account, and five years in one city is not the whole story. If yours went differently, better or worse, reply and tell me what worked. I would rather this piece carry a dozen experiences than mine alone, and I will credit you if you want me to.

Subscribe now

In Taiwan, your phone number is not just a phone number. It is the key everything else hangs off. The bank wants it for SMS verification. So does the NHI app, food delivery, your landlord, and every LINE group you will ever be added to, which in this country means your entire social and professional life. Show up at other counters without a local number and you will find that half of them cannot finish processing you.

So run this errand first. Before the bank, before the apartment hunt. It takes twenty minutes.

The one answer

Chunghwa Telecom (中華電信). Prepaid SIM (預付卡) first. Buy it at the airport counter when you land, or at any Chunghwa store in town.

Why Chunghwa: biggest network, strongest coverage outside Taipei, and the most practice processing foreigners. Taiwan Mobile (台灣大哥大) and Far EasTone (遠傳電信) are perfectly good networks too, and if one of their stores is closer, you will not suffer. But if you want one answer, it is Chunghwa.

For myself, I use Taiwan Mobile as most of friends and family are using it and it saves money on the in-network calls. In most cases, city or national call charges can be quite significant based on my experience. Also, their customer service is marvelous and pleasant. Despite the language barrier, their representative has made their best attempt to explain things in detail.

Why prepaid first: monthly contracts (月租) need an ARC, typically run two years, and charge real money to break. On day one you may not have an ARC yet, and you definitely do not know your data habits or how long you are staying. Prepaid gets you a working number with zero commitment. Convert to a monthly plan later if you want. The number can come with you.

The documents: what the rule says, and what the counter does

Taiwan officially requires two identity documents to register any SIM, including prepaid. Chunghwa’s published rule: a primary ID (passport original, entry permit, or ARC) plus a secondary one (ARC, NHI card, driver’s license, another passport, or a student ID).

In practice, recent arrivals report that airport counters often process tourists with just a passport, and enforcement of the second document varies by counter and by day. Sound familiar? It is the same pattern as the banks: the written rule is stricter than the average counter, and the strictness you meet depends on who is behind it.

The move is the same as the banking guide, and it costs nothing: bring a second document anyway. Your entry stamp plus a home driver’s license covers you at the airport. In town, once you have an ARC, passport plus ARC settles it. A signature on the form is fine here, no chop needed.

Where and what to buy

At the airport: telecom counters sit right after customs at Taoyuan and are open long hours. Prepaid tourist packages come in day blocks (5, 10, 15, 30 days) with unlimited data and some call credit. The clerk installs it and tests it before you walk away. eSIM is available if your phone supports it.

In town: any Chunghwa direct store. Search 中華電信 in Google Maps; there is one near you. Staying months rather than weeks? Say so, and ask for standard prepaid instead of a short tourist package. Top up at any convenience store or in the app.

What not to buy on week one: a two-year contract. The discounted-phone offer is tempting. But the math rarely favors someone who does not yet know their address, their data habits, or their timeline, and the fine print outlives many ARCs.

The catches

Your number becomes infrastructure. Choose once. Every account you open in Taiwan ties to this number, starting with your bank. Changing numbers later means re-verifying yourself everywhere you have ever registered. So do not treat the first SIM as disposable. Get a number you intend to keep. If you move to a monthly plan later, convert or port the number rather than starting over.

Keep prepaid alive. Prepaid credit comes with a validity window, and a long-idle SIM can be deactivated. Leaving Taiwan for a stretch? Top up before you fly. There are also reports of long-term prepaid users being asked to redo identity verification years later; if your data suddenly dies, a store visit with passport and ARC usually revives it.

Contracts: bring both documents. When you do sign a monthly plan, take passport and ARC. Foreigners commonly report being asked for both where locals show one card. Annoying, normal. Some stores also reportedly match contract length to your ARC validity, so a freshly renewed ARC makes for an easier signup than one expiring soon.

Unlocked phone required. A phone locked to your home carrier will not take a Taiwanese SIM. Sort that out before you fly, not at the counter.

The short version

Land. Walk to the Chunghwa counter. Passport plus one more document, just in case. Buy prepaid. Guard the number like a second passport, because functionally it is one. Then go open your bank account.

Guide 1 covers that bank visit, updated with corrections from readers who have opened more accounts here than I have. If your SIM story went differently, reply to this email. Reader corrections have already made these guides better, and they decide what I write next.

Here is what nobody warns you about Taiwanese banks: the people are kind and the system is rigid. The teller will genuinely want to help you. She will use every word of English she has. And then the system will reject your application anyway, because your documents don’t match the SOP on her screen, and no amount of goodwill on either side of the counter can override it.

I learned this the way everyone does. I moved here from Hong Kong, I speak Mandarin, and it was still complicated. If you don’t speak the language, the same process can eat three visits and two weeks. So let me save you those visits.

The one answer

Go to E.SUN Bank (玉山銀行) or CTBC (中國信託), main branch, on a weekday morning, with every document on the list below.

These two are consistently rated the most foreigner-friendly banks in Taiwan: staff who have processed foreign applications before, full English mobile apps, and a realistic path to a credit card later. If neither has a branch near you, Chunghwa Post (中華郵政, the post office) has a branch in essentially every township and will open a basic account, though with minimal English and fewer features.

Main branch matters. Small sub-branches see few foreign applications, and an unfamiliar case is exactly the kind of thing a rigid SOP rejects. A main branch (分行, not a 簡易型分行) has seen your situation before.

Bring all of this. Not most of it. All of it.

1. ARC or APRC (居留證), valid, original. Gold Card counts, more on that below.

2. Passport, original. Photocopies and phone photos are refused.

3. A second ID (Optional, but may apply to some branches). This is the one that catches people. Many banks want identification beyond the ARC and passport: your NHI card (健保卡), a Taiwan driver’s license, or your home-country national ID. If you just arrived and have none of these, bring your home driver’s license and anything else official with your name on it. This single requirement is the most common reason people get sent home. (Updated Jul 21st with correction from readers who’ve done this more times than I have)

4. A local phone number. Not optional. Every bank uses SMS verification during opening and for online banking afterwards. Get your SIM card before you go to the bank, not after.

5. Proof of address: rental contract or a utility bill. Your ARC address works at some banks; a contract removes the argument.

6. A chop (印章). A personal stamp with your name, made at any locksmith or stamp shop for NT$100 to 300 in ten minutes. Many banks accept a signature instead, but if the branch prefers a chop and you don’t have one, that’s another return trip. NT$150 is cheap insurance.

7. Cash for the first deposit. NT$1,000 is typically enough.

8. Your reason for the account. They will ask. “Receiving salary” or “paying rent and bills” is fine. Vague answers trigger the anti-money-laundering checklist.

One more thing before you go: check that your name is written identically on your passport and your ARC. Middle-name differences between the two documents cause real delays. If they differ, bring both documents and patience.

The catches nobody tells you

The branch decides, not the bank. Taiwan’s banks run strict anti-money-laundering compliance, and each branch applies the internal rules with its own level of caution. One branch can refuse you and another branch of the same bank can approve you the same afternoon. If you’re rejected, don’t argue with the counter, and don’t give up on the bank. Try a bigger branch. This is the single most useful thing to know.

It takes half a day. Identity verification alone runs 20 to 30 minutes, and the whole process one to two hours if nothing goes wrong. Go on a weekday morning, bring something to read, and don’t schedule anything for the afternoon.

Your employer may choose your bank for you. Many Taiwanese companies pay salary only into a specific bank. Ask HR before you open anything. If they name a bank, open that one first and treat everything in this guide as your checklist for that visit instead.

US citizens: extra paperwork. FATCA forms are mandatory, and every non-Taiwanese applicant fills in CRS tax-residency declarations. It’s routine, but it’s another ten minutes and another place a name mismatch can snag.

The kindness is real and the system doesn’t care. Expect to be treated warmly and refused anyway if a document is missing. The refusal isn’t personal and isn’t negotiable at the counter. The fix is always the same: get the exact document, come back.

No ARC yet?

Honest answer: wait, if you can. Getting a full account without an ARC has become genuinely hard. The old workaround, a “Record of ID Number” from the immigration agency plus a post-office account, still exists on paper but branches increasingly refuse it, and any account you do get comes with heavy limits. Your ARC typically arrives within two weeks of applying. Two weeks of cash and your home card is cheaper than three failed bank visits.

Gold Card holders

Your card is an ARC in law, but some clerks have never seen one. Two moves: bring a copy of the regulation confirming Gold Card equals ARC (the Gold Card office publishes it), or go to one of the state-owned banks that are formally briefed on Gold Cards: Bank of Taiwan, Mega Bank, Hua Nan, or First Bank. Expect the second-ID question to hit you hardest, since new arrivals on a Gold Card often have no NHI card yet. Home driver’s license plus any other official ID is your best hand.

After the account: the useful second one

Once you have one working account, open Richart (Taishin’s digital bank) from your sofa. It’s the account expats actually like: proper English app, good rates, five free transfers a month. Foreigners with an ARC can apply online, but here’s why it’s your second account and not your first: authentication requires either an existing Taiwanese bank account or a branch visit, and Richart can’t receive salary. First account at the counter, second account on the phone. That order.

Share

The short version

E.SUN or CTBC, main branch, weekday morning. ARC, passport, second ID, local SIM, address proof, chop, NT$1,000, and a straight answer about why you want the account. If one branch says no, another may say yes. And if this guide saved you a second trip to the bank, that’s exactly what it was for.

Something in your own banking saga this guide doesn’t cover? Reply to this email. I read everything, and reader problems decide what I write next.