Editor's note: This is one in a series of reviews and reports by classical music critic Andrew Druckenbrod, who is on tour with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra in China and Taiwan.

KAOHSUING, Taiwan -- Sometimes you don't realize how hard you have been running until you stop and catch a breath. That was the case with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra's touchdown here in Taiwan, and the breath was more a sigh of relief.

Concerts last week in mainland China ballooned with pressure as the orchestra aimed to strengthen relationships in Beijing and Shanghai for potential return trips. There was also the constant worry about the restrictive and touchy government. Americans aren't used to holding back opinions or thoughts, but the musicians were instructed to keep things to themselves. To put it in the simplest of terms: Terrible Towel photos were copacetic on the Great Wall but not in Tian'amen Square.

In far more liberal Taiwan, the Republic of China, all is more relaxed. Open to the West for much longer than mainland China, Taiwan is more international, and life on this lush, subtropical island is more on a human scale. Here in Kaohsuing (COW-shung), the country's second largest city, there are fewer skyscrapers, fewer people (1.5 million vs. 13 million in Beijing) and fewer aggressive street venders or salespeople.

I joined violinists Albert Tan and Peter Snitkovsky in search of dinner after the orchestra arrived. We wandered the busy streets and eventually came across a small restaurant that clearly catered to Taiwanese locals. Yet, there were no awkward stares from customers or frustration from the waitress because we didn't know what to order without touristy menus with photos of food. We were simply accepted, shown a table and then more or less ignored. After days of scrutiny -- real or imagined -- this was a welcome change.

Later, we ran into many musicians who had made the trek downtown to one of Kaohsuing's vibrant night markets. Storefronts that sell high-end items during the day roll out displays of cheaper wares on the nighttime streets. Surrounding them are hordes of food vendors selling a fabulous variety: from sugar cane juice to candied bananas, from frogs to crab claws. The Lui-Ho night market had a carnival atmosphere (complete with a waffle cone booth and a shooting gallery) and clearly was a place for locals to burn off steam and have some fun.

While subject to Chinese rule and influence in centuries past, in the 16th century Taiwan was visited by the Portuguese -- who called it Formosa, or "Beautiful Island."

The Japanese took control of Taiwan in 1895 following its war with China. Architectural and culinary vestiges remain from both of these periods.

But the major event in Taiwan's past was clearly when the Chinese Nationalist forces retreated here after being defeated by Mao Zedong-led Communists in 1949.

For a while, the nationalists, led by Gen. Chiang Kaishek, continued to lay claim to all of China. Over the past few decades, mainland China has done the same with Taiwan.

Lately, China's robust export economy has forced Taiwan's to contract ("Made in China" tags now outnumber ones that say "Made in Taiwan").

There's still the lingering possibility that the People's Republic will forcibly take Formosa one day. The current Taiwan administration favors better ties to China, which has led to protests in Taipei. Despite all this uncertainty, people in Kaohsuing seem content.

One particular Taiwanese man who also goes with the flow is the PSO's assistant concertmaster, Huei-Sheng Kao. He was born in Tainan, a small town only a few miles from Kaohsuing.

His father was a surgeon, which was uncommon, but even more rare was that both his parents played piano. Soon after Kao started studying violin at age 6, his dad closed down his clinic twice a week so a small youth orchestra could rehearse there.

Kao quickly showed aptitude and even played a concert in front of Chiang Kaishek in 1969.

The then 12-year-old was soloing in Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto when the general suddenly stood up and left the room with all of his body guards in tow. The boy was petrified, wondering if he had offended Chiang.

"He just had to go the bathroom," Kao recalls with a laugh.

Kao traveled to Philadelphia two years later to study with Ivan Galamian and Jaime Laredo at the Curtis Institute of Music. In 1977, he skipped an audition for the New York Philharmonic ("It is a crazy town") for one in Pittsburgh.

A friend named Bob Scott lent him $75 and he took the train. Conductor Andre Previn hired him, placing him in the first violins. Two years later, the maestro promoted him to assistant concertmaster.

"I was just happy to have a job," says the modest Kao.

His fellow musicians are very happy to have him, as Kao is one of the funnier members of the PSO. Asked what is his favorite Taiwanese food, he responds after a long pause: "Big Mac in duck sauce."

His sister and many other relatives are visiting for this return to southern Taiwan with his PSO, and Kao's pride is evident.

"I am grateful."