Somehow, a few hundred days have clustered into many weeks, which have formed ten months, and I've almost been here for a year.
This is my life.
Things have mellowed to a fairly predictable and mostly enjoyable routine. I don't panic much anymore, even when I might be lost or potentially have a language-barrier-based problem. I understand a lot more Chinese than I ever expected to, and I do just fine getting around and getting what I need. I have favorite (and least favorite) restaurants, cafes, tea shops, taxi drivers, students, buses, smells, etc. There are places where I'm a "regular," and most of the time, if I get into a cab in my city, the driver recognizes me and I don't even have to say where I'm going.
In the morning, I wake up before my alarm. There is a brief sunny hour, really early in the morning, before the clouds (or smog-clouds) settle down over Jhongli, between the mountains and the Taiwan Strait. I usually sleep through that sunny hour and get up when it's all whitish-gray. I have some coffee and a granola bar, and check my e-mail, Facebook, blogs written by people I miss, and the news headlines (things I don't really understand or connect to... I feel very far out of the American loop). Then I hit the mat and do a few hours of yoga and/or pilates, in my little Japanese-style yoga room.
I shower and get my stuff together for the day, leaving with enough time to get lunch at my favorite vegan restaurant, "The Loving Hut," or at a sandwich shop that reminds me vaguely of Panera. Then I take the bus, or the train (depending on which town I'm teaching in that night) and head to work. I always get there early, and hang out in the teacher's room chatting with my co-teachers and doing my lesson plans.
Then I teach for a few hours. I see 130 students every week. I know all of their names and what games they like, which words they have trouble pronouncing, who their friends are, and what makes them giggle. I love them. I haven't told them I'm leaving yet. We (teachers) aren't allowed to tell them until 2 weeks before we go. I'm dreading that week. I will miss them so much.
If I'm not hanging out with friends after work, I meander home, maybe stopping at the night market for a bag of guava slices or egg rolls. When I get home, I have a snack and some mint-chamomile tea, listen to podcasts, clean up my room, read... fall asleep.
There are always variations, of course--making a day better or worse than average, teaching me something new about the world, revealing something about myself.
This morning I went to the doctor, for a sore throat that has been hanging on for over a week. Last night it felt like I was swallowing daggers (I tried not to swallow for a really long time... like, until I started to drool... ugh) and decided enough is enough. I showed the receptionist my insurance card, paid the $150NT ($4.50USD) and took a number. The doctor didn't speak much English, but all I wanted her to do was shine her flashlight down my throat and tell me I didn't have cancer. She looked in my throat for 3 seconds, concluding that I must drink MUCH more water and get some rest, and then wrote out my prescription.
When you pay for your consultation with the doctor, it includes the price of anything they prescribe, and so you just walk to the nearest pharmacy (usually on the same block) and they put your meds in little plastic bags, and voila! You usually get a packet of 27-- three pills, three times a day, for three days. Mine were painkillers and 2 B-vitamins. I'm feeling good tonight.
On my way home, I was walking through a ped-underpass below the train station. There are usually vendors there during the day, selling fruit and jewelry, as well as fortune tellers who read your face to predict the future. At night, homeless people snuggle into dirty sleeping bags and passively beg; empty soup bowls positioned next to their shoes waiting for change to be tossed. Sometimes I put some coins in the bowls, but I've heard that a lot of those people are "owned" or at least hired by gangsters. And one of the homeless guys is always texting away on a nicer cell phone than mine. Anyway, tonight as I was approaching the stairs to exit the underpass, there was a man slowly sliding down the steps on his back. He was shaking and looked to be having a seizure. People were walking by, not looking at him. Maybe something was terribly wrong? Maybe he was just pretending? I felt a combination of horror and helplessness. I'm not a "walk by, don't look" type of person. But here, I'm about as useful as a shadow. It's as if I can't hear and I can't speak. I noticed a few people that seemed to be aware of the situation and looked as though they were going for help. I hoped so.
As I emerged onto the street, the cool night air hit my face, fresh in comparison to the dingy underpass. I remembered that I was craving celery and peanut butter, and then got angry at myself for so quickly returning to my selfish, petty stomach.
But what is the protocol for such an experience? Take 3 deep breaths, say a prayer, be silent for five minutes, and carry on? Who knows. What do you do with those pieces of information that don't sit well in your mind? Those memories of bad things you've seen that often come back to disturb an otherwise peaceful mental state? It's a feeling something like guilt, only you didn't cause that bad thing, and it was out of your hands, there was nothing you could do... yet you saw it. That doesn't go away.
When you set out to "see the world," you can't just observe its wonders. You will also be met with its horrors. You will discover its breathtaking beauty, but also its pain and ugliness.
It's beyond my capability to reconcile the contrasts in my mind. All I can really do is make space in my heart for both to exist--the sweetness and the sadness of this world. I'm not looking for the sugar-coated version of life--and it sure isn't what I'm finding.
In six more weeks, I'll be in a place that is very sweet to me. Iowa. Home. My family. I know by now, though, that it's true what they say--that you can never really go home. What was "home" will always feel different after you've been away, because you have changed. Still, I look forward to being in that place, to discovering a new version of "home," and of myself.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
riding in cars with... fish
This taxi driver had a fishbowl mounted to his dashboard. I've seen a lot of dash-deco here. I think this is the best I've seen! (Yes, he still drove like a crazy person... but the top of the bowl was covered so the fish wouldn't slosh out!)
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
oh, my darling
Approximately four days to go till the long awaited reunion with myPod. I have noticed, though, that I can get "un-used" to having music all the time. But usually what happens is that I get some song from school stuck in my head. Today it's "Oh, My Darling." Cute song, right? Well, the way they sing it here at my school is actually pretty messed up. And the kids go bonkers for it. Here is the way we sing it:
Oh, my darling
Oh, my darling
Oh, my darling,
How are you?
You are pretty,
So I love you,
May I kiss you?
My darling...
(Verse 2, and here's where the kids really get into it)
Oh, my darling
Oh, my darling
Oh, my darling
How are you?
You are UGLY,
So I HATE you,
May I KICK you?
My darling...
Of course, there are actions to go along with it. I'll spare you. But can you imagine if your kid came home from school singing that?
Oh, my darling
Oh, my darling
Oh, my darling,
How are you?
You are pretty,
So I love you,
May I kiss you?
My darling...
(Verse 2, and here's where the kids really get into it)
Oh, my darling
Oh, my darling
Oh, my darling
How are you?
You are UGLY,
So I HATE you,
May I KICK you?
My darling...
Of course, there are actions to go along with it. I'll spare you. But can you imagine if your kid came home from school singing that?
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
pink dogs praying and my iPod bites the dust
Last night, my floormates and I dined at a small Hakka restaurant around the corner from where we live. It was a family-owned hole-in-the-wall with just a Chinese menu, but luckily my two friends who study Chinese were able to decipher enough to order me some fried tofu and delicious cooked greens (some Taiwanese foods that I've fallen in love with).
While we waited for our food, we laughed at the white poodle tied up on top of some stacked boxes in the corner. Her ears and tail were dyed amoxicillin-pink, and she had a scummy underbite that you could only see once you got close. And when you got close, she would stand up on her hind legs and wave her front paws wildly. And--we know this because my friends had previously been to the restaurant and had seen her antics--if you stand in front of her and put your palms together like you're praying (or greeting someone in Thailand), she stands on her hind legs and claps her front paws together in front of her nose, bobbing her little two-toned head. Hysterical! In the Buddhist temples here, when you see people go in to pray, they hold a stick of burning incense between their palms and bow several times in front of the altar. Apparently her owners are so devout that they taught their pup to pray!
The fried tofu was fantastic... all crisp and peppery on the outside and soft and custardy on the inside. Actually, it was so good that I couldn't stop stuffing it in my mouth (daintily, of course, with chopsticks) even though it was piping hot. As punishment for my gluttony, I haven't been able to taste much today, as my buds are burned off.
This morning I woke up with a faint sense of dread. I've been putting it off for too long, but I decided today it was time to face the music--er, the lack of it. My iPod (who has been with me for two blissful years and has traveled with me on a road trip across the US, and to Hawaii, and to Costa Rica, and Taiwan and South Korea...) has been in a coma for the past week.
One afternoon I turned it on and it was totally empty. No music, no podcasts, no playlists, no videos, no pictures. That was about a week ago. Since then, I've attempted various life-saving procedures, everything from CPR (pushing the menu button and the center button down and holding for 6-10 seconds... pushing the play button and the center button down and holding for three seconds, releasing, and holding again... pushing all of the buttons down at the same time with varying speed and pressure and temper) to an intubating procedure to provide mechanical respiration (aka, life support... or, leaving my iPod cabled to my computer for a few days to see if my iTunes program would reset/restart/restore/revive my iPod).
I finally admitted that the problem was beyond my best electronic Florence Nightingaling and wishful thinking.
So this afternoon before work, I ventured to the Apple store with my iPod tucked safely in my backpack's most inner compartment. I was (as always) concerned about the language barrier and not being able to communicate with the Apple salespeople, but at the same time, what would I even say? I figured could just point at it, say "BU HAO," and they would turn it on, expertly diagnose the problem, and fix it.
I was greeted with a confident "Hello" from one of the guys behind the counter. I smiled and asked, "ni hue shuo ingwen ma?" ("Can you speak English?) The young man replied, "Yes." I took that as a good sign--usually people start to get flustered and embarrassed and giggle and say "a little" or "no, sorry." So I laid the lifeless shell of my iPod onto the counter and explained the problem in as much detail as I could, speaking slowly and clearly. The guy understood me perfectly, and asked me some questions... I could tell he was fluent! This was great!
"Your English is so good!" I complimented him--they like that here.
"Yeah... thanks," he replied, not super-enthusiastically.
"So... did you study it in University?" I inquired.
"Um, I was born in Canada," he said. In my minds eye, I picked up my foot and put it directly in my mouth, tasting all the Taiwanese street-crud caked into my sneakers after almost a year of accumulation. Shoot. Well, how was I supposed to know? And I bet he gets that all the time, anyway...
He tinkered with the iPod while I walked around the store, partly to avoid further embarrassment and partly to drool over all the MacBooks. After a few minutes, "Dave from Canada" informed me that he would need a while to look at the problems, but that he could call my cell phone as soon as he knew what was wrong.
It took them 3 hours and 48 minutes to determine that the situation was hopeless. I heard the news during my mid-class break. I wasn't surprised, but I was sure sad. I could envision them standing over my iPod on the counter, tiny iPod tools strewn around from their futile dissection.
Dave's coworker: There's nothing we can do now. Dave, call it.
Dave (sighing defeatedly): Time of death, 5:29 p.m.
Have I been watching too many episodes of Grey's Anatomy? Yes, probably.
Anyway, the story has a good ending. Dave from Canada said they can send it away to the Apple store (THE Apple Store?) and they will replace it for free! Just kidding, not for free. But for just $3000-$4000NT, which translated into US dollars is about a third of what I paid for the iPod when I bought it two years ago. I'm relieved and grateful. I honestly can't take much more of the Taiwanese oldies station that they play on the buses (that I ride for many hours each week).
Long live my dependency on technology!
While we waited for our food, we laughed at the white poodle tied up on top of some stacked boxes in the corner. Her ears and tail were dyed amoxicillin-pink, and she had a scummy underbite that you could only see once you got close. And when you got close, she would stand up on her hind legs and wave her front paws wildly. And--we know this because my friends had previously been to the restaurant and had seen her antics--if you stand in front of her and put your palms together like you're praying (or greeting someone in Thailand), she stands on her hind legs and claps her front paws together in front of her nose, bobbing her little two-toned head. Hysterical! In the Buddhist temples here, when you see people go in to pray, they hold a stick of burning incense between their palms and bow several times in front of the altar. Apparently her owners are so devout that they taught their pup to pray!
The fried tofu was fantastic... all crisp and peppery on the outside and soft and custardy on the inside. Actually, it was so good that I couldn't stop stuffing it in my mouth (daintily, of course, with chopsticks) even though it was piping hot. As punishment for my gluttony, I haven't been able to taste much today, as my buds are burned off.
This morning I woke up with a faint sense of dread. I've been putting it off for too long, but I decided today it was time to face the music--er, the lack of it. My iPod (who has been with me for two blissful years and has traveled with me on a road trip across the US, and to Hawaii, and to Costa Rica, and Taiwan and South Korea...) has been in a coma for the past week.
One afternoon I turned it on and it was totally empty. No music, no podcasts, no playlists, no videos, no pictures. That was about a week ago. Since then, I've attempted various life-saving procedures, everything from CPR (pushing the menu button and the center button down and holding for 6-10 seconds... pushing the play button and the center button down and holding for three seconds, releasing, and holding again... pushing all of the buttons down at the same time with varying speed and pressure and temper) to an intubating procedure to provide mechanical respiration (aka, life support... or, leaving my iPod cabled to my computer for a few days to see if my iTunes program would reset/restart/restore/revive my iPod).
I finally admitted that the problem was beyond my best electronic Florence Nightingaling and wishful thinking.
So this afternoon before work, I ventured to the Apple store with my iPod tucked safely in my backpack's most inner compartment. I was (as always) concerned about the language barrier and not being able to communicate with the Apple salespeople, but at the same time, what would I even say? I figured could just point at it, say "BU HAO," and they would turn it on, expertly diagnose the problem, and fix it.
I was greeted with a confident "Hello" from one of the guys behind the counter. I smiled and asked, "ni hue shuo ingwen ma?" ("Can you speak English?) The young man replied, "Yes." I took that as a good sign--usually people start to get flustered and embarrassed and giggle and say "a little" or "no, sorry." So I laid the lifeless shell of my iPod onto the counter and explained the problem in as much detail as I could, speaking slowly and clearly. The guy understood me perfectly, and asked me some questions... I could tell he was fluent! This was great!
"Your English is so good!" I complimented him--they like that here.
"Yeah... thanks," he replied, not super-enthusiastically.
"So... did you study it in University?" I inquired.
"Um, I was born in Canada," he said. In my minds eye, I picked up my foot and put it directly in my mouth, tasting all the Taiwanese street-crud caked into my sneakers after almost a year of accumulation. Shoot. Well, how was I supposed to know? And I bet he gets that all the time, anyway...
He tinkered with the iPod while I walked around the store, partly to avoid further embarrassment and partly to drool over all the MacBooks. After a few minutes, "Dave from Canada" informed me that he would need a while to look at the problems, but that he could call my cell phone as soon as he knew what was wrong.
It took them 3 hours and 48 minutes to determine that the situation was hopeless. I heard the news during my mid-class break. I wasn't surprised, but I was sure sad. I could envision them standing over my iPod on the counter, tiny iPod tools strewn around from their futile dissection.
Dave's coworker: There's nothing we can do now. Dave, call it.
Dave (sighing defeatedly): Time of death, 5:29 p.m.
Have I been watching too many episodes of Grey's Anatomy? Yes, probably.
Anyway, the story has a good ending. Dave from Canada said they can send it away to the Apple store (THE Apple Store?) and they will replace it for free! Just kidding, not for free. But for just $3000-$4000NT, which translated into US dollars is about a third of what I paid for the iPod when I bought it two years ago. I'm relieved and grateful. I honestly can't take much more of the Taiwanese oldies station that they play on the buses (that I ride for many hours each week).
Long live my dependency on technology!
Monday, March 9, 2009
good news for monday blues!
I just found out that my dear friend Sarah (who teaches music in Switzerland) will be visiting me in Taiwan from April 11-17! Oh rapturous joy! I never imagined that in my time here I'd be blessed by visits from not one, but TWO of my very best friends! I'm so excited... time to start planning Sarah's Taiwanese Adventure!
Oh, and in case you were wondering... today is a good day for bringing ancestral offerings, praying for luck, and getting married. It's a bad day for opening a business and placing a body in a coffin. Aiyoh!
Oh, and in case you were wondering... today is a good day for bringing ancestral offerings, praying for luck, and getting married. It's a bad day for opening a business and placing a body in a coffin. Aiyoh!
Sarah and I in Chicago--Summer 2007... the last time we saw each other!
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
all i want is an FUD and an O2 Bar!
My Wish List: (this list is specific to life in Taiwan and would be considered null and void if I was in the States)
1. A "Go-Girl" Female Urination Device. I was introduced to this item on a friend's blog last week and have been hankering for one ever since. It's some sort of little rubber funnel designed to give women the freedom to stand and take a leak, just like men. The reason I want one is because most of the public restrooms (as well as all the bathrooms at my schools) are squatters--holes in the tile. Not that I can't do it like that--I'm a country girl, not to mention I've traveled to lots of places where bathrooms are, ahem, primitive. However, the squatters are usually pretty dirty and, well... wet (I think most women have the aiming skills of a 4-year-old boy). I could go on and on about why I want a Go-Girl, but I'll spare you the details. Just check out the website... it's good for a giggle.
2. An oxygen bar. I remember when I first heard about oxygen bars a few years ago, and thought it was the most ridiculous concept. Why in the world would you pay for something that's free and is everywhere?!? Well, here's why: because it's NOT EVERYWHERE! UGH! Between the pollution and the nasty smells here (ranging from stinky tofu being cooked on the street to sewage stench wafting from unknown sources), I crave oxygen like I used to pine for dark chocolate. I've done a little research, and not only can you go to an oxygen bar ("Hey, baby... do you breathe here often?") you can actually buy your own! Unfortunately they start at about $300 and go up from there, but hey... a girl can dream. I have a feeling that when I return to Iowa, I'm going to get a high from all the fresh air going to my brain.
1. A "Go-Girl" Female Urination Device. I was introduced to this item on a friend's blog last week and have been hankering for one ever since. It's some sort of little rubber funnel designed to give women the freedom to stand and take a leak, just like men. The reason I want one is because most of the public restrooms (as well as all the bathrooms at my schools) are squatters--holes in the tile. Not that I can't do it like that--I'm a country girl, not to mention I've traveled to lots of places where bathrooms are, ahem, primitive. However, the squatters are usually pretty dirty and, well... wet (I think most women have the aiming skills of a 4-year-old boy). I could go on and on about why I want a Go-Girl, but I'll spare you the details. Just check out the website... it's good for a giggle.
2. An oxygen bar. I remember when I first heard about oxygen bars a few years ago, and thought it was the most ridiculous concept. Why in the world would you pay for something that's free and is everywhere?!? Well, here's why: because it's NOT EVERYWHERE! UGH! Between the pollution and the nasty smells here (ranging from stinky tofu being cooked on the street to sewage stench wafting from unknown sources), I crave oxygen like I used to pine for dark chocolate. I've done a little research, and not only can you go to an oxygen bar ("Hey, baby... do you breathe here often?") you can actually buy your own! Unfortunately they start at about $300 and go up from there, but hey... a girl can dream. I have a feeling that when I return to Iowa, I'm going to get a high from all the fresh air going to my brain.
a personal oxygen bar
... and a more social option, hanging out at an oxygen bar
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
today's lunar prophecy
I've recently started reading the paper more often. I usually get my news from Yahoo.com--and I only check it if something grabs my attention. However, my iPod currently seems to be in a coma, and I have to do something on those long commutes, so I've been using my travel time to read the Taipei Times (the English newspaper). It's pretty interesting... there's a lot of world news, as well as Taiwanese news, and quite a bit of random stuff too. You can check out today's survival Chinese phrase ("I'm thinking about learning Korean") or the air quality forecast around the island (usually somewhere in the "unhealthy" range).
You can also read the daily "lunar prophecy," based on Chinese astrology. It tells you what things are good to do today and what actions will bring poor results. I'm not sure who lives by this stuff (especially English speakers?) but it's entertaining nonetheless.
So, here it is... your lunar prophecy for Monday, March 3.
It's a GOOD day for:
-getting engaged
-meeting friends
It's a BAD day for:
-Starting a business
-Repairing stoves
Ha!
You can also read the daily "lunar prophecy," based on Chinese astrology. It tells you what things are good to do today and what actions will bring poor results. I'm not sure who lives by this stuff (especially English speakers?) but it's entertaining nonetheless.
So, here it is... your lunar prophecy for Monday, March 3.
It's a GOOD day for:
-getting engaged
-meeting friends
It's a BAD day for:
-Starting a business
-Repairing stoves
Ha!
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