European and American women are too arrogant for you?

Sometimes I leave my Skype on while I'm away. I usually receive odd messages in Chinese or advertisements that are clearly some sort of spammy virus, and I just delete and block the sender.

Here's the spam-gem of the night:
 
[5:46:52 PM] dreamsy002: European and American women are too arrogant for you? Are you looking for a sweet lady that will be caring and understanding? Then you came to the right place- here you can find a Russian lady that will love you with all her heart. Can't find a queen to rule your heart? How about beautiful Russian ladies that have royal blood and royal look? Here you can find hundreds of portfolios of these fine women of any age for every taste. Please excuse us if you are not interested.

Well, Dreamsy002, you ARE excused because I am not interested in finding a Russian queen to rule my heart...

Dreamsy002, you are hereby blocked from my Skype account.

Oh, and since you implied that I'm an arrogant peasant American woman incapable of love, I went ahead and reported you for abuse. Spamarovski.

She Will Love You With All Her Heart

cat-fight!

Sometimes the little girls in my toddler yoga class are Divas. Two of them really seem to get on each others nerves. They get in some sort of tiff every week. Of course, they fight in Chinese, and they're tiny little three-year-olds, and they're always dolled up in cute tights, skirts, sweaters, hair accessories... which makes it quite comical to watch.

Last week it was when we were working on our ABC coloring book, so all the girls were perched on little plastic stools around a little plastic table, workbooks spread out, coloring a skateboard for the letter "S." Suddenly, I could hear squeaky little voices being raised indignantly.

M: Yoh!
L: Mei yoh!
M: YOH!
L: MEI YOH!
M: YOOOOOOH!
L: MEI YOOOOH!
M: YOH!!!!
L: MEI YOH!!!!

You get the point. Essentially, this translates as "IS TOO! IS NOT! IS TOO! IS NOT!"

Sugar and spice, people... sugar and spice.

on bad parenting and being a helpless teacher

Yesterday I was signing my 1st grader's communication books. I'm not sure which parents check them and which don't, but I usually just check the boxes for "Good Work," "Homework Finished," "Good Attitude," etc. Unless the student was particularly ornery that day--then they get a "Needs to Pay Attention in Class" or whatever.

Little H was not very good in class yesterday. He's smart but always talks out of turn, doesn't raise his hand, shouts out answers that I've asked other students to answer, etc. Sometimes it's just too disrupting to let it slide. When I signed his book and checked "Talks Too Much," his face fell. Then he pulled up his t-shirt sleeve revealing several small, dark bruises on his upper arm. He told me his mother will give him more when she sees that he didn't do "Good Work" in class today.

My heart was twisting, of course, but I couldn't just erase the red pen check I'd just given him. I felt sorry and angry at his wretch of a mother for being so ignorant. In the States, this would be the point where I'd call the mandatory reporter hotline or notify the school counselor. Here, it's the point where you do nothing but pray she wasn't too hard on him last night. I felt a little bit sick all afternoon.

The cultural differences between Taiwan and America, both in the home and in the educational system, are vast. Being a teacher here is completely different from working in an American school. Yet, while I can't report H's mom for abuse, I can hug him, ruffle his hair, put a comforting hand on his shoulder--without being reported myself...

and it was all yellow

(Name that song!)

Yesterday's Yellow Yarns

(You won't Yawn)

1. Apparently, the deforestation in inner Mongolia had quite the far-reaching consequences. Says Yahoo!News (via AP) about Sunday's phenomenon:

BEIJING – Sandstorms whipping across China shrouded cities in an unhealthy cloud of sand and grit Monday, with winds carrying the pollution outside the mainland as far as Hong Kong and Taiwan.

It was the latest sign of the effects of desertification: Overgrazing, deforestation, urban sprawl and drought have expanded deserts in the country's north and west. The shifting sands have gradually encroached onto populated areas and worsened sandstorms that strike cities, particularly in the spring.

Winds blowing from the northwest have been sweeping sand across the country since Saturday, affecting Xinjiang in the far west all the way to Beijing in the country's east. The sand and dust were carried to parts of southern China and even to cities in Taiwan, 1600 miles (2600 kilometers) away from Inner Mongolia where much of the pollution originated.

The sandstorm in Taiwan, an island 100 miles (160 kilometers) away from the mainland, forced people to cover their faces to avoid breathing in the grit that can cause chest discomfort and respiratory problems even in healthy people. Drivers complained their cars were covered in a layer of black soot in just 10 minutes.

I really thought it was just foggy. Or hazy because of the warm, windy day. It actually was very yellow, now that I think of it.  I will be monitoring the situation and keeping you posted on the health of my lungs. Poor Mongolia!

a yellow dust storm somewhere in China

a woman in Beijing protects herself from yellow dust

2. After inhaling loads of Mongolian sand particles unbeknownstly (yes, I made up that word) I rode the MRT (Metro Rapid Transit) from the dance performance to the place I catch my bus home. Not a minute after I'd gotten on, a chubby child of about 4 years old and his family started making a bit of a scene (uncommon, as people here are desperate not to draw attention to themselves). I should also note, here, that the MRT system in Taipei has been rated best in the world for several years, and they are very careful to keep it CLEAN and NEW-looking. Therefore, no smoking, no food or drinks, no chewing betel nut and no chewing gum in the MRT Station or Trains... and you can ask Jenni about the gum; she actually got a citation when she came to see me because a safety officer saw her chewing gum!)

The mother yanked the boy off of his shiny blue plastic bench seat, and I could see the puddle behind him, sloshing about. YUCK! Okay, honestly I sympathized with the mom, because believe it or not, yours truly has potty-trained a little boy before. Check my resume. And I know how long it can take before they can really control themselves (number one AND number two, gag). So I did feel sorry for her, but it was also welcome entertainment for a usually dull 7 minutes between Ximen and Xinpu.

The kid's big brother, who looked about 7, ran his hand through the pee-pond and then PUT HIS FINGERS ALL UP IN HIS NOSE, and said something I'm pretty sure was "Yes, everybody, we've got URINE HERE!" as if we needed scientific proof of what the yellow liquid seeping from his brother's pants truly was. Big Brother was quickly sent across the aisle to sit alone while Mom and Grandma stripped the boy naked right there in front of a full train car of now-snickering onlookers. Mom's cheeks were bright pink. Several people offered her tissues and wet wipes, and they rubbed that kid's dimpled hiney raw, dabbing and wiping and mopping and drying between each fleshy little fat-fold. They cleaned off the seat too, but not as much as they worked on the boy's rear. They bagged up his soiled clothes and procured a new pair of jeans from somewhere, just in time to get off at their stop, which happened to be mine, too.

I ended up behind them on the escalator, and noticed that the child's new pants had a large logo embroidered on the seat, sort of like all those sweat pants sorority girls wear with ΑΔΠ stitched on the bum. The boy's pants read:

ELVISH

Now, you may be wondering, "was that the punch line?" or "is there a moral to this story?" No, I reply. 

Taiwan is a random place where random things happen and random words are worn on random derrieres.

THE END

i miss the sound of bare feet on a stage floor

I spent a very windy Sunday afternoon at the National Theater in Taipei (pictured above) seeing Cloud Gate Dance Theater perform "Listening to the River." I got my tickets an hour before the show, which placed me in the nosebleed section--dead last row! It was still a beautiful, touching performance and one of my Taiwan Goal's to see the Taiwanese dance troupe in their home country, after watching them perform a few years ago in Chicago!

i miss this...

more fun in the hospital

"Sooo," I asked timidly, near the end of my allotted 4.5 minutes with the doctor. "You don't think I need ultrasound therapy on my knee?"

"NO! WE WILL TELL YOU WHAT YOU NEED! YOU DO NOT TELL US!" snapped the cranky old physical therapist, who I'd specifically chosen from the American Institute of Taiwan's website, which listed doctors who spoke English and had studied/practiced in the U.S. This particular woman, Dr. Chung, had apparently worked at a place called Loma Linda Desert Rehabilitation Center. So I picked her, because I liked the sound of her stateside residency. It sounded airy, holistic, Pacific, earthy, progressive, cactus-blossom-ish and generally lovely. Clearly she came out of there more cactus-y than flowery.

I should stop watching so many hospital TV shows.

I have been to the hospital more than 8 times in the past month and a half (I should really update my "activities and interests" on Facebook) but have yet to find any doctors who make me laugh like these guys...

...and, while my PDLR (Personal Drama Level Rating) throughout this knee saga definitely scores high enough to make it in soap opera world, I have yet to find any doctors who are this hot...


Are my expectations set too high? I have given up on finding J.D., McDreamy, McSteamy, or empathetic Little Dr. Grey, but would it be too much to ask for to find a doctor who likes their job? Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.

I will leave you with a quote by dear old Hippocrates, who would surely have a few tips for Dr. Chung.

It's far more important to know what person the disease has than what disease the person has.

dirt

I'm from Iowa. I've never in my life wondered where dirt comes from, or how I can get my hands on some. Also, it never crossed my mind that there would be a point in my life where I would have to BUY dirt, with money. Or that dirt comes with instructions.

Which is why I didn't follow said instructions.

Which is why there is a Quaker-oatmeal-can-dirt-bomb in my laundry room.

I bought a freeze-dried (?) brick of hairy-looking soil to re-pot some of plants into cute ceramic jars. I thought I could just open the package and the dirt would kind of expand, the way a vacuum-sealed bag of coffee does. So I cut it open (in my kitchen sink) and waited for the magic-soil-expansion. Nothing. I tried breaking the dirt. Nope. I even used my best veggie-slicing knife to try to dismember it. Inpenetrable.

Then I looked at the package and saw several steps of instructions (in Chinese) and two pictures. One picture showed the dirt-brick in a large plastic tub. The next picture showed water being poured over the brick. Ohh, got it! Add water! Just like those little foam bath toys that pop out of capsules!

Obviously I didn't want a kitchen sink full of dirt, so I looked around for some suitable container. All I came up with was the Quaker oatmeal tin. The dirt brick fit inside nicely, and then I covered it with water. Waited 3-5 minutes (I do know the character for "minutes!") and VOILA... there was enough dirt inside that can to re-pot a redwood! But it was ALL inside the can! I could tell there was still some un-expanded dirt in there too, so I kept adding more water and digging around with a spoon, hoping the dirt would start spilling up and out--but no, it only grew sideways. I was able to dig enough out (with my fingers) to re-pot my little plants, but there must be a few acres of potential mud left in that can. I'm thinking of sending it to Brooklyn so the city kids can start a vegetable farm, although, as an explosive, it probably wouldn't make it through customs.

For now, it sits in my laundry room, ticking away while Mr. Quaker's chubby grin gets wider and wider. I should probably go take my whites down...

+

=

needle in a haystack

So I'm looking for a good physical therapist, and I got a list of doctors/hospitals from the American Institute in Taipei who have more "Western" sensibilities about health care and speak English. I'm looking for a certain Dr. Pei-Jen Chung, so when I went to the "Find a Doctor" part of the hospital's website, here's what I found. Are you kidding me?? I don't have time for this, AHH!

Find a Doctor

‧AI-LIEN HUANG	‧BAO-YUN LU	‧CHAN WAI
‧CHANG-FENG HO	‧CHAO-LIN TSENG	‧CHAO-YANG TSENG
‧CHENG-CHUN CHIEN	‧CHENG-TSUNG WANG	‧CHIA-JUNG HSIAO
‧CHIA-MING HSIEH	‧CHIEN- HSUAN HUANG	‧Chien-Ya Kao
‧Chih-Hsung Huang	‧Chin-Chuan Lin	‧Chin-Yen Tsai
‧Ching-Ling Chang	‧Chu-An Chen, M.D.	‧Chu-Hui Su
‧CHUN-KAI WANG	‧Chun-Yeh Tang	‧Da-Yong Liu
‧Edward K. Ho	‧Edward Shao-Hwa Wang	‧F.L. Huang
‧Fang-Yi Chen	‧Frank Y-F Shih	‧Fu-Jen Lee
‧Fu-Shiou Shiau	‧Gin-Tong Lowe	‧Grace Huei-En Chang
‧Hei-Jen Jou	‧Her-Shuenn Wang	‧Hong-Chin Hsu
‧HONG-JIUN CHEN	‧Hsein-Lin Wu	‧Hsiao-Jui Wei
‧HSIN-HENG WU	‧Hsin-Ying Lin	‧Hsin-Yu Hung
‧Hsiu-Wen Chang	‧Huei-Hwa Wang	‧Huei-wen Chen
‧Hui-Ting Hwang	‧Hwa-Chang Liu	‧I-Li Kuo
‧I.J Lin	‧I.M. Fang	‧Jeff P Wang
‧Jen-Jan Hu	‧Jennifer C. Lee, MD, MHS	‧Jennifer Chun-Hung Lin
‧Jou-Kou Wang, M.D., Ph.D.	‧Ju-Yin Hsueh	‧K.J. Liu
‧Kuang-Fu Lu	‧Kuang-Wei Hsu	‧Kun-Wu Tsan
‧L.Y. Wang	‧Lee, Chiayen, DDS	‧Li-Yin Chang
‧Lin, Yu-Yu DDS; PhD	‧Liu, Yu-Li	‧Mao-Jung Tsenz
‧Mei-Yang Chang	‧Meng-Huei Tsai	‧Ming-Ho Tseng
‧Ming-Tsuen Lin	‧MING-WEI LIU	‧Ming-Yang Hsu
‧Pei-Chen Chung, M.D.	‧Pei-Ying Ling	‧Peter Ho-Chin Chen
‧Po-Yen Lin	‧Robert Lim Young	‧S.F. Cheng
‧Shang-Pen Hwang	‧Shang-Ta Tsai	‧Shen, Chao-Hui, M.D.
‧Shin-Ming Chen	‧Shou-Jen Huang	‧Su-Chun Wu
‧Suei-Tsun Tsai	‧Susan Bih-Reng Wu	‧Tzuu-Guang Young
‧Ven-Jiann Liao	‧W.I. Chou	‧Wan-Ten Chen
‧Wei-Ting Hsu	‧Wen-Hsiang Huang	‧Wen-Jiunn Liu
‧William Ho	‧Ya-Herng Chang	‧Ya-Ting Chang
‧Yao-Tung Kan	‧Yao-Wen Kuo	‧Yen-Mong Lu
‧Ying-Hsiang Ch	‧You-Shih Tsai	‧Yu-Chang Chang
‧Yuh-Chyun Chiang	‧Yung-Sheng Kao

not a bedtime story

More March Weirdness. This video may frighten children and dogs. And, if you have a phobia of things in masks/costumes, like I do, you might not want to watch this!! (But I know you will anyway, because you're too curious!)

A Random Parade in Ingge on A Sunday Afternoon

to Wolfgang

You had more hair than you knew what to do with. I always thought we should have had you shaved like a poodle, but Mom said you'd be too embarrassed. Probably true. You were a wild hunter, more in touch with your roots (as a lion, I mean) than most cats. Yet you were terrified of ceiling fans and fireplaces! You loved the outdoors, sun-baked cement and the roof of Dad's car. You even rode to Ames on top of it once! You were a show-off, always dragging mice, rabbits, moles, voles, birds, and whatever else you could get your claws on back to our front step, where you would gnaw away proudly at the flesh of your prey. You had a frequent stain on the white fur around your mouth, like a kid who drinks too much Kool-Aid. You would let us squeeze you, snuggle you, suffocate you with affection for much longer than you probably wanted to. You remained regal and unaffected when your winter hair clumped together in dreadlocks, and then fell off leaving you with patchy bald spots all over your sides and static-y mohawk down your spine. You weren't very interested in silly cat-games, like chasing a string or stick or leaf--there is no blood inside a string, and a hunter must conserve his energy. You were so, so, so soft. And so sweet. You met Dad in the barn every morning and night to oversee the chores and keep him company. You were as grand as your name; independent, strong, and majestic.

And we will miss you terribly.

she should get paid for this

My mom makes the most incredible greeting cards. And wedding invitations. And wedding gifts. And calligraphy-based art. Seriously--she's professional (and far too modest).

Here is my Valentine's/Chinese New year "card"--totally frame-able.

The front, hand-cut flowers and vase

The second page (it's the Chinese Year of the Tiger, in case you didn't know)

Third page. The little yoga-girl in "tiger pose" is hand-cut from gold paper

The last page (with my Dad's contribution) showing the US Postal Service's Lunar New Year stamps

Seriously. This woman needs an Etsy page. Consider this a petition--sign it (leave a comment) and let's see if we can get her in business!

Love you, Mom!

a little weirdness to get your march started off right

Channel-surfing through the Buddhist TV stations.



(not that THIS is any less weird!)

green island part 5: piao liang! (beautiful!)

"Sleeping Beauty" rock

green island part 4: an afternoon walk

Lunch (snacks from the ONE 7-11 on the island) on the beach

We were joined by a stray dog who kicked up a bunch of sand in our faces and then had the audacity to spit out the crackers I offered him. Picky punk-dog!

We dashed into a little cafe when it started pouring for the 37th time. Helen pretended to take a picture of me drinking coffee (which I might add, was the most disgusting cup of bitterness I've ever tasted--the Taiwanese are still honing their coffee-making-skills; they're much better at tea) but really we were trying to get a shot of the couple behind me. Or their feet, rather. They had matching Family Mart (a convenience store) plastic bags neatly tied around each foot. I'm more of a puddle-jumper, myself.

That morning, we'd gone snorkeling. The water was warm enough, the fish and coral were stunning, but MAN ALIVE was I freezing! It was probably around 60 degrees and raining, and that is just not swimsuit weather, even if you're from Iowa and have endured the subzero climes. We all had to hang on to a chain of intertubes while the guide pulled us around the coral beds. I made the mistake of kicking my feet a few times and got a "Hey! Don't swimming!" I was just trying to stay warm--I was enjoying the fish and all, but was literally convulsing with cold inside my wetsuit. I tried to keep as much of my head underwater as possible, because every time my head bobbed up it was met with icy blasts of wind and rain. I'm sure the experience was similar to what Kate Winslet felt when filming that infamous scene (it's true--they made the water pretty cold to get more authentic performances from the actors--I saw it on a documentary... when I was like 16). With Rose-esque determination, I held on to the intertube like it was my beloved Jack's frozen, lifeless hand. I'll n-n-never let go, J-j-j-jack. I p-p-promise!

This is sweet. Not only does the sign tell you what animals may be crossing the road, but also shows what will happen to them if you hit them with your vehicle. You will send salamanders to purgatory, and you will be the reason a frog-angel and crab-angel get their wings. If that thought doesn't make you slow down, I don't know what will.

Lots of deer on Green Island. There's a deer conservation park (which was closed... possibly because all the deer have been stolen by locals and domesticated--saw lots of them on leashes and tied up outside of houses) but also, a plethora of deer delicacies are served at restaurants and snack shops. So I'm not really sure if they're endangered or just popular.