Author's note: I have had a WONDERFUL time in Taiwan; please check out my companion list to this one for proof of that. But I thought it fitting, since I'm leaving, to remind myself of why it's not all bad to be going home--so this was my way of doing that.
10. Having to check all movies etc to make sure they are in English
OK, so this was only actually an issue once, last week when Tiffiany, Rachel and I went to see Brave and left two Chinese-dubbed lines in. But it will be very nice when I won't have to scrutinize every film title and description to be sure it's in English. In general, having English-language media readily available again will be a wonderful thing.
9. Having to watch my vocabulary and speed when talking
I don't particularly mind doing this, and I've gotten quite used to adjusting my speech to the English level of those around me--my students, for instance--but it will be much easier when I can turn that part of my brain off and just talk.
8. Being dirty all the time
In the same category: having my clothes get dirty all the time; having my shoes get dirty all the time; having my apartment be dirty all the time. No amount of caution or cleaning can help you when it's in the air.
7. Cockroaches
*Shudder* 'Nuff said.
6. Scootering in the rain
I love scootering--when it's nice out. When it's not, well...just see the last post I wrote on the subject. Being the constant subject of showers of street water is not exactly my idea of a good time.
5. Not being able to find potatoes on any menu, ever
I love potatoes. When asked my favorite food, that is usually my answer. So, when the only variety you can ever find them in is french fried, and that rarely, I get a little sad. And then a lot sad. Really, Taiwan, you're missing out on an amazing food here!
4. Being surrounded by bad drivers on poorly designed streets
I've written before my conclusions of why scootering in Taiwan is so difficult. Several times, actually. What it boils down to is this: badly designed roads and people who don't pay attention to things like right-of-way or the traffic laws. I won't miss that. (And yes, I realize that in conjunction with what I said yesterday, this makes me a massive hypocrite. I don't care.)
3. Having bones and skin and fat make up the majority of every "meat" dish on any menu
In America, we like our meat as meat only: no skin (too much fat!), no bones (too much work!), no fat (see "no skin"). In Taiwan, they're much better about not wasting things (and/or have less of a market for our other uses for these materials, like hot dogs, perhaps?), and so a slab of "meat" is never a slab: it's a little crosscut of a bone, whichever bone they had handy; your job is to get the bits off it that you like and leave the rest. I will like having "meat" mean just "meat" again.
2. Being drenched in sweat within 5 minutes of walking outside
I'm from the Pacific Northwest. I don't particularly like sweating, and less still do I like having heat dictate how I dress and how I look--that is, never well. I get quite excited in Taiwan when I'm being picked up (in a car!!) to go somewhere inside (air-conditioning!!), and so can do things like put on makeup and do my hair without the knowledge that it will all be for naught the instant I put on my scooter helmet or walk the few blocks to wherever I'm going.
1. Not being able to communicate above a very basic level
I've written about this more times than I can count, and certainly more times than I'd like to cross-reference for you now: it is so terribly hard sometimes not to be able to talk to most of the people you come across.Your world becomes very small, excepting the Internet, consisting of the few friends you have that speak English and the few places where you know you can communicate in Chinese--some well-trusted restaurants, for instance, and a single bank. Going anywhere else or doing anything else requires a massive effort, and even when you make that effort, is often incredibly frustrating and may or may not end in success. One very small example is in the realm of small talk, which I wrote about before--I feel so rude not making small talk with people I come across! And yet, the terrible truth is that, at least at the moment, I have no choice in Taiwan. And I won't miss that.
Showing posts with label American food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label American food. Show all posts
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Monday, June 11, 2012
Slow Wheels Turning
Several things happened today, all pointing, slowly but surely, to the conclusion that my time here is almost done.
1.) I booked my SCUBA class for my trip Down Under. And, with that, I'm locked in: my vacation is coming, and soon! Great Barrier Reef, here I come. And afterwards...home. 29 days.
2.) I began making goodbye cards for my students. I've been putting this off, partly because I didn't want to sit for hours writing "Have a GREAT summer" on 535 slips of colored paper (120 in now and my hand is already killing me...); partly because the incessant rain these past few days have made me less than thrilled to venture out to buy said papers; and, mostly, because I don't want it to be time for that yet. Rachel was nice enough to buy some lollipops for me at Costco a while back--also for goodbye gifts--and I put them on my desk chair and rolled it under the desk so I wouldn't have to look at them. I don't think I'm quite ready for this...10 days.
3.) Tiffiany began packing. Yes, I know, this is not me, per se, but it's begun: ETAs are taking their stuff off their walls, sorting it, folding it, wrapping it, and putting it in bags and boxes to go home. The process has started, and there's no going back now. Soon I'll need to join. 10 days.
I miss home. I miss my friends and family. I miss my dog. I miss lasagna. But now that the wheels sending me home are in motion, I don't know if I'm ready for them to turn...
1.) I booked my SCUBA class for my trip Down Under. And, with that, I'm locked in: my vacation is coming, and soon! Great Barrier Reef, here I come. And afterwards...home. 29 days.
2.) I began making goodbye cards for my students. I've been putting this off, partly because I didn't want to sit for hours writing "Have a GREAT summer" on 535 slips of colored paper (120 in now and my hand is already killing me...); partly because the incessant rain these past few days have made me less than thrilled to venture out to buy said papers; and, mostly, because I don't want it to be time for that yet. Rachel was nice enough to buy some lollipops for me at Costco a while back--also for goodbye gifts--and I put them on my desk chair and rolled it under the desk so I wouldn't have to look at them. I don't think I'm quite ready for this...10 days.
3.) Tiffiany began packing. Yes, I know, this is not me, per se, but it's begun: ETAs are taking their stuff off their walls, sorting it, folding it, wrapping it, and putting it in bags and boxes to go home. The process has started, and there's no going back now. Soon I'll need to join. 10 days.
I miss home. I miss my friends and family. I miss my dog. I miss lasagna. But now that the wheels sending me home are in motion, I don't know if I'm ready for them to turn...
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Happy Sad Anniversary
One year ago today, I walked home from my last undergraduate final exam and opened my inbox to find the most important email of my life: the email announcing I had gotten the Fulbright. I was blown away.
Or, technically, what the letter said was that I should call Jonathan Akeley at my earliest convenience to discuss the status of my Fulbright grant; and, technically, what I was was frozen stiff, then spurred to frenetic energy as I dug through my drawers looking for older correspondence, and then frozen stiff again. But you get the picture.
I don't know if I've mentioned it on here before, but I was actually an alternate to come to Taiwan. That means that in April, when everyone else here was getting their life-changing letters, jumping up and down with joy and calling their friends and family to share the good news--and believe me, they all remember the precise moment they got their letters, we've compared notes--I got, instead, the deflating news that I had gone from "recommended candidate" to "alternate." That was all the information I was given--that I was an alternate, and that, if someone backed out or they got more funding, I might get to go. There was no mention of the likelihood of that happening; nor did they tell me whether I had a dozen people before me on the alternate list, or if I was the first.
As it happened, the latter. But the not-knowing that plagued my April-June was one of the biggest testings I've faced so far, and the pay-off was easily the best. One year later, I cannot fathom what my life would have been like if today had passed like any other, consigning me forever to the phantasmal status of alternate.
I suppose it's fitting, then, that today featured our unofficial LET-ETA Farewell Potluck. One year ago today, I learned that I would have the opportunity to come to Taiwan and meet and work with hundreds of wonderful people; today, I began to learn what it is to say goodbye to them.
The existence of the potluck, and the number of people who came, actually says a lot about our group. See, we had had an official farewell dinner planned for all the ETAs, LETs, and host families. Then it got cancelled, thanks to budget cuts. At our last Wednesday workshop, they gave us the microphones--and all anyone could talk about was how much we wanted a real goodbye, funded or not. So potluck it was!
And I'm so glad it was. For a strictly voluntary event on a weekend night, a huge number of people showed up--and, Taiwan being Taiwan, way more than enough food. I spent the night shifting around the room and chatting, and in addition to chilling with the other ETAs (which we've done surprisingly little of this year) and with Maggie, Alison and Patty (ALWAYS a pleasure), I got to catch up with several of the LETs, like Kiwi and Karen, with whom I'd loved to hang out back during orientation, but hadn't been able to see much of since then. And, of course, I ate myself sick.
I can't help but think how perfect the timing was that our potluck should be today, exactly one year after I found out I was coming here. What a perfect way to celebrate, and to remind myself of the possible outcome of a period of intense uncertainty--which, incidentally, is also what I'm dealing with right now in regards to the coming year.
Today ushers in a new year for me, one with many goodbyes to be made, but also many hellos which I don't know about yet. And, as sad as the goodbyes are, and will be, the best possible way to look at them is in light of the fact that they can be made--that I met all these wonderful people in the first place. Thank you all for a fantastic year, and thank you, Fulbright, for changing my life with a single email sent one year ago today.
Or, technically, what the letter said was that I should call Jonathan Akeley at my earliest convenience to discuss the status of my Fulbright grant; and, technically, what I was was frozen stiff, then spurred to frenetic energy as I dug through my drawers looking for older correspondence, and then frozen stiff again. But you get the picture.
I don't know if I've mentioned it on here before, but I was actually an alternate to come to Taiwan. That means that in April, when everyone else here was getting their life-changing letters, jumping up and down with joy and calling their friends and family to share the good news--and believe me, they all remember the precise moment they got their letters, we've compared notes--I got, instead, the deflating news that I had gone from "recommended candidate" to "alternate." That was all the information I was given--that I was an alternate, and that, if someone backed out or they got more funding, I might get to go. There was no mention of the likelihood of that happening; nor did they tell me whether I had a dozen people before me on the alternate list, or if I was the first.
As it happened, the latter. But the not-knowing that plagued my April-June was one of the biggest testings I've faced so far, and the pay-off was easily the best. One year later, I cannot fathom what my life would have been like if today had passed like any other, consigning me forever to the phantasmal status of alternate.
I suppose it's fitting, then, that today featured our unofficial LET-ETA Farewell Potluck. One year ago today, I learned that I would have the opportunity to come to Taiwan and meet and work with hundreds of wonderful people; today, I began to learn what it is to say goodbye to them.
The existence of the potluck, and the number of people who came, actually says a lot about our group. See, we had had an official farewell dinner planned for all the ETAs, LETs, and host families. Then it got cancelled, thanks to budget cuts. At our last Wednesday workshop, they gave us the microphones--and all anyone could talk about was how much we wanted a real goodbye, funded or not. So potluck it was!
And I'm so glad it was. For a strictly voluntary event on a weekend night, a huge number of people showed up--and, Taiwan being Taiwan, way more than enough food. I spent the night shifting around the room and chatting, and in addition to chilling with the other ETAs (which we've done surprisingly little of this year) and with Maggie, Alison and Patty (ALWAYS a pleasure), I got to catch up with several of the LETs, like Kiwi and Karen, with whom I'd loved to hang out back during orientation, but hadn't been able to see much of since then. And, of course, I ate myself sick.
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| Foooooooood |
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| Pictured: Patty succeeding in getting Analicia to try the duck blood rice. Brittany is still being persuaded. I held strong. |
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| Lovely people!...many of whom I didn't know were in the picture until I uploaded it. In a crowded room, pictures grow as soon as you start posing! |
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| I love these people so much! |
Today ushers in a new year for me, one with many goodbyes to be made, but also many hellos which I don't know about yet. And, as sad as the goodbyes are, and will be, the best possible way to look at them is in light of the fact that they can be made--that I met all these wonderful people in the first place. Thank you all for a fantastic year, and thank you, Fulbright, for changing my life with a single email sent one year ago today.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Lasts
Today after school, I got my scooter oil changed, filled up my gas tank, grabbed Subway for lunch, and stopped by my bank to transfer rent money into Rachel's account. Why am I telling you all this? Well because, as I stood in line at the ATM at the bank, I realized: I was paying June's rent. June's rent. As in, the last regular rent I'll pay in Taiwan.
And so, the march of the lasts continues. Retrospectively, I can say, too, that I've had my last oil change, and had my last payday. From here on out, in fact, I'll have to be vigilant if I don't want to miss them: lasts will keep on flying at me, whether I notice them or not, as the countdown to America begins. (41 days, by the way.)
And lasts are usually sad. Though those today weren't--last time I have to shell out for new oil or my living space? Hooray!--you can pretty well expect this blog to get more nostalgic as we move forward, though always complemented with stifled excitement for things like my car, American food, and the ability to communicate. (And, you know, my family and friends and stuff, but that goes without saying. :) )
But before we get to that, I thought I'd share a nice little video from one of my favorite YouTube-ers that I found today, a video with which I quite identify. For all the introverts reading this, enjoy the similarities and validation. For all the extroverts, watch and learn!
And so, the march of the lasts continues. Retrospectively, I can say, too, that I've had my last oil change, and had my last payday. From here on out, in fact, I'll have to be vigilant if I don't want to miss them: lasts will keep on flying at me, whether I notice them or not, as the countdown to America begins. (41 days, by the way.)
And lasts are usually sad. Though those today weren't--last time I have to shell out for new oil or my living space? Hooray!--you can pretty well expect this blog to get more nostalgic as we move forward, though always complemented with stifled excitement for things like my car, American food, and the ability to communicate. (And, you know, my family and friends and stuff, but that goes without saying. :) )
But before we get to that, I thought I'd share a nice little video from one of my favorite YouTube-ers that I found today, a video with which I quite identify. For all the introverts reading this, enjoy the similarities and validation. For all the extroverts, watch and learn!
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Peanut butter and stinky tofu
This was originally going to be a long, complex, drawn-out post on culinary and cultural sensibilities. Then my dear dear friend from home, Flavia, got on Skype and an absolutely wonderful, and necessary, conversation ensued. It is now midnight. Hence, this post just got preemptively abbreviated.
Peanut butter. Quick, name the single most common allergy for kids in the United States. Peanut butter, right? OK, so that may actually be the second most common, after milk, but still! I worked as a nanny for four years and as a childcare provider in various other forms for pretty much as long as I can remember (I started helping at church when I was just 10 myself), and one of the biggest taboos in every childcare setting in America is never bring anything having to do with peanuts anywhere with kids, ever (unless they're your own and you just want a PPJ in the privacy of your own home, but even then you should be careful).
Which is why today, I had a minor freakout when I realized that the jam I was bringing for our blind taste test (this week's vocabulary: jam, pepper, salt, butter, sugar, ketchup) had been contaminated by peanut butter. (Because, really, why dirty two knives?)
I brought it to school anyway, though, after carefully getting the jam from the bottom of the jar without disturbing the potentially contaminated bits on top (never an easy feat), and asked Maggie that we ask the kids to make sure no one was allergic before doing anything with the jam. Her reaction: huh?
Apparently, peanut allergies aren't really a thing here. In fact, we asked all of our five 5th grade classes today, and had not a single peanut allergy in the bunch. We had a few milk allergies (proving the point in the link above, I suppose), and so duly avoided the butter for them, but no one was allergic to peanuts! It was truly dumfounding.
Stinky tofu. This is a much more minor point; something that honestly could have fit in a Facebook status. It would have said "that moment when you're driving down the street and smell something that reminds you of delicious cheddar cheese. And then realize it's stinky tofu." I'm holding out some hope that there actually is a place on Zhongshan selling cheesy goodness, but it's unlikely. More probably, my sense of smell is officially shot to pieces by Taiwanese sensibilities.
Peanut butter. Quick, name the single most common allergy for kids in the United States. Peanut butter, right? OK, so that may actually be the second most common, after milk, but still! I worked as a nanny for four years and as a childcare provider in various other forms for pretty much as long as I can remember (I started helping at church when I was just 10 myself), and one of the biggest taboos in every childcare setting in America is never bring anything having to do with peanuts anywhere with kids, ever (unless they're your own and you just want a PPJ in the privacy of your own home, but even then you should be careful).
Which is why today, I had a minor freakout when I realized that the jam I was bringing for our blind taste test (this week's vocabulary: jam, pepper, salt, butter, sugar, ketchup) had been contaminated by peanut butter. (Because, really, why dirty two knives?)
I brought it to school anyway, though, after carefully getting the jam from the bottom of the jar without disturbing the potentially contaminated bits on top (never an easy feat), and asked Maggie that we ask the kids to make sure no one was allergic before doing anything with the jam. Her reaction: huh?
Apparently, peanut allergies aren't really a thing here. In fact, we asked all of our five 5th grade classes today, and had not a single peanut allergy in the bunch. We had a few milk allergies (proving the point in the link above, I suppose), and so duly avoided the butter for them, but no one was allergic to peanuts! It was truly dumfounding.
Stinky tofu. This is a much more minor point; something that honestly could have fit in a Facebook status. It would have said "that moment when you're driving down the street and smell something that reminds you of delicious cheddar cheese. And then realize it's stinky tofu." I'm holding out some hope that there actually is a place on Zhongshan selling cheesy goodness, but it's unlikely. More probably, my sense of smell is officially shot to pieces by Taiwanese sensibilities.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Coping Mechanisms
While I was talking to my mom the other day (with some of my few precious Skype-to-cell minutes I got as part of a hostel deal a while back), she brought up the concept that, as my time here begins to wind down, my brain has begun making subtle adjustments to help me emotionally prepare for the removal. I agree; that's definitely happening. But it's not just happening on a subconscious level; I have never in my life kept such careful track of time, or monitored my own thoughts and emotions on a subject so continuously.
If you look back over my blog, it's all there: the excitement in coming to a new country, the shock and joy of actually being here, the settling in to day-to-day life, and then, it begins: a nervous, self-conscious tic which ever prompts me to ask--am I ready? Would I be happy or sad if I went home tomorrow? What about next week? Next month? My answers were tempered, always, by the reality of how much time I had.
Are we five months in? Then yes, I miss home, but only aspects of it. Are we halfway? Then I begin missing people here in Taiwan preemptively, not yet ready to think about life Stateside. Are we just a few months away? Then I must go out of my way to mention that I will miss Taiwan--in the midst of a weeks-long ode to my homeland. If I'm honest, all of my posts are like this last one: I write what is true, but also what must be true in order to make life livable for however much time I have left here.
And now that it actually is next month--or, almost; a month and a half till school is out and two before I actually go home--I'm beginning to feel like I will be ready to be done soon. I've already mentioned the things I miss about home, and, honestly, lately I've noticed myself getting annoyed again at cultural things I've long-ago accepted as normal. My road rage is at an all-time high, for instance, even as I'm at my most adept at handling traffic situations. My psyche is preparing me, preparing me to be happy to be back in America; ready to displace my happy memories with things I won't miss, things like the traffic and the lack of Western food and the prohibitive humidity.
I know there will be reverse culture shock to deal with, no matter how much I prepare myself, consciously and subconsciously, for the change. Today Grace and I went to Smokey Joe's (perhaps the only Tex-Mex place in Kaohsiung) for a belated Cinco de Mayo lunch, and I found myself gasping at the 300-600NT (~$10-$20US) entrees, and positively fuming when they added a 10% gratuity to our bill without notice. Come July, some things about America will be hard to accept no matter what I do.
But that won't stop me from trying; continuing to pull out whatever tactics I can to smooth the transition. It will be hard to leave Taiwan; hard to return to America. But at least my brain knows this now, and is working hard on its coping mechanisms.
If you look back over my blog, it's all there: the excitement in coming to a new country, the shock and joy of actually being here, the settling in to day-to-day life, and then, it begins: a nervous, self-conscious tic which ever prompts me to ask--am I ready? Would I be happy or sad if I went home tomorrow? What about next week? Next month? My answers were tempered, always, by the reality of how much time I had.
Are we five months in? Then yes, I miss home, but only aspects of it. Are we halfway? Then I begin missing people here in Taiwan preemptively, not yet ready to think about life Stateside. Are we just a few months away? Then I must go out of my way to mention that I will miss Taiwan--in the midst of a weeks-long ode to my homeland. If I'm honest, all of my posts are like this last one: I write what is true, but also what must be true in order to make life livable for however much time I have left here.
And now that it actually is next month--or, almost; a month and a half till school is out and two before I actually go home--I'm beginning to feel like I will be ready to be done soon. I've already mentioned the things I miss about home, and, honestly, lately I've noticed myself getting annoyed again at cultural things I've long-ago accepted as normal. My road rage is at an all-time high, for instance, even as I'm at my most adept at handling traffic situations. My psyche is preparing me, preparing me to be happy to be back in America; ready to displace my happy memories with things I won't miss, things like the traffic and the lack of Western food and the prohibitive humidity.
I know there will be reverse culture shock to deal with, no matter how much I prepare myself, consciously and subconsciously, for the change. Today Grace and I went to Smokey Joe's (perhaps the only Tex-Mex place in Kaohsiung) for a belated Cinco de Mayo lunch, and I found myself gasping at the 300-600NT (~$10-$20US) entrees, and positively fuming when they added a 10% gratuity to our bill without notice. Come July, some things about America will be hard to accept no matter what I do.
But that won't stop me from trying; continuing to pull out whatever tactics I can to smooth the transition. It will be hard to leave Taiwan; hard to return to America. But at least my brain knows this now, and is working hard on its coping mechanisms.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Inside-Outside-In
Culture shock. I haven't written about it in a very, very long time--since January, unless you count my recent musings on perspective shift, which I don't. The reason why I've stopped is pretty obvious: I have ceased to be shocked by the culture.
Sure, I still notice little quirks like misspelled shirts and "Indian"-Spanish-Chinese singers at Taiwanese holiday celebrations. But I'm pretty sure I'd notice those no matter where I was. The huge in-your-face cultural differences are now pretty much invisible to me, something I had somewhat forgotten and have recently been reminded of, since Ingrid came to join our little Hanmin teaching family and I got to see her reactions to them.
In fact, I now believe I've been in Taiwanese culture enough to somewhat internalize it. How did I come to this conclusion? Well, apart from all the not-exactly-ironic peace sign posing I've been doing for months...
Today I realized (thanks to a Facebook post by one of my ETA colleagues in Yilan, Lauren) that I have also been incorporating the culture into my daily life on a more subtle level. Here's the link that prompted this realization.
Yes, it's a meme of Asians taking pictures of their food. It's pretty accurate; whenever I actually pay attention at restaurants (Rachel's especially good at noticing this), I see people everywhere with their cameras out and pointed alternately at themselves and at their food. Rachel told me she and Brittany saw one person in Taipei taking a picture of herself with...her fork. Pictures of food, and food-related objects and poses, are all over here.
And let's see...what have I been writing about lately? Constantly; almost obsessively, in fact? ALWAYS with pictures? Here I was thinking it was about my American culture, but as it turns out, it may just be a result of my sneaking internalization of the local culture. To say "hello" in Taiwanese, after all, you literally say "have you eaten"! Food is absolutely central to Taiwanese culture. So, really, why does this realization surprise me?
Maybe because it's such a perfect cohesion of American and Taiwanese cultures; I never saw it coming. I may do a whole series on how much I miss sandwiches, but the fact is I've taken food, something I never paid all that much attention to in the States, and elevated it to one of my most common subjects.
Fulbright talks ad nauseum about our role as cultural ambassadors and as "a bridge between cultures." And, well, I suppose you can't get much more bridge-like than by complexly intertwining American and Taiwanese cultures; combining external and internal elements and placing them, subconsciously, in your day-to-day life. Is it outside? Is it in? The answer is like that of Schroedinger's cat: yes.
Sure, I still notice little quirks like misspelled shirts and "Indian"-Spanish-Chinese singers at Taiwanese holiday celebrations. But I'm pretty sure I'd notice those no matter where I was. The huge in-your-face cultural differences are now pretty much invisible to me, something I had somewhat forgotten and have recently been reminded of, since Ingrid came to join our little Hanmin teaching family and I got to see her reactions to them.
In fact, I now believe I've been in Taiwanese culture enough to somewhat internalize it. How did I come to this conclusion? Well, apart from all the not-exactly-ironic peace sign posing I've been doing for months...
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| January... |
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| March... |
Yes, it's a meme of Asians taking pictures of their food. It's pretty accurate; whenever I actually pay attention at restaurants (Rachel's especially good at noticing this), I see people everywhere with their cameras out and pointed alternately at themselves and at their food. Rachel told me she and Brittany saw one person in Taipei taking a picture of herself with...her fork. Pictures of food, and food-related objects and poses, are all over here.
And let's see...what have I been writing about lately? Constantly; almost obsessively, in fact? ALWAYS with pictures? Here I was thinking it was about my American culture, but as it turns out, it may just be a result of my sneaking internalization of the local culture. To say "hello" in Taiwanese, after all, you literally say "have you eaten"! Food is absolutely central to Taiwanese culture. So, really, why does this realization surprise me?
Maybe because it's such a perfect cohesion of American and Taiwanese cultures; I never saw it coming. I may do a whole series on how much I miss sandwiches, but the fact is I've taken food, something I never paid all that much attention to in the States, and elevated it to one of my most common subjects.
Fulbright talks ad nauseum about our role as cultural ambassadors and as "a bridge between cultures." And, well, I suppose you can't get much more bridge-like than by complexly intertwining American and Taiwanese cultures; combining external and internal elements and placing them, subconsciously, in your day-to-day life. Is it outside? Is it in? The answer is like that of Schroedinger's cat: yes.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
What do you eat?
For some reason, this question never fails to stump me. I've gotten it a lot since living in Taiwan, in different variations--"What do you eat for dinner here?" "What did you eat at home?" "What do Americans usually eat?"--and I never know how to answer.
I had the same problem at home--I would say I cooked for myself, and when people asked what, I would answer with an oh-so-dignified "Uhhhhh...." followed by something equally inane, like "chicken?"
Obviously, I eat. I would even go so far as to say that I eat pretty well, with a decent, though not chef-worthy, level of variety of meats and veggies and cuisines. But what are they, exactly? That, I couldn't say.
Some categories are easy: spaghetti, stir fry, meat and potatoes, salads, breads, tacos, soups, sandwiches. Beyond that, I often rely on a few steady cuisines: Italian, Thai, Mexican, some sort of "fusion" American (though I'll be the first to admit I have no idea what that means).
The problem, especially here, is that when I'm asked what I eat at home and the first things that come to mind are spaghetti and stir fry (which, in all honesty, I eat maybe once every two weeks), I'm then hard-pressed to explain to my Taiwanese friends why, exactly, I miss food from home. After all, most brunch shops here offer spaghetti, as do numerous other Western restaurants; as for stir fry, you'd be hard-pressed to go more than a few blocks here without hitting a dedicated restaurant. So why, they ask, and rightly so, do I miss food from home?
And that's where I get stuck. Why is it so hard to explain that everything, from the raw materials to the seasonings to the preparation methods, are different here? Or to mention how vastly the absence of things like convection ovens and non-American cheese (ironically the local favorite) affect one's ability to cook? Even now, I have a Taiwanese chocolate pudding in my fridge--a "pudding" the preparation for which required only water, not milk, and whose final consistency is closer to that of strawberry Jell-O than real, American-style pudding.
And what do Americans eat at home? As I tell my questioners, the answer to that is simply too vast for me to touch on. Americans eat everything. Every cuisine, tweaked a bit and catered to the American palate, shows up on American plates on a regular basis. Sure, here people may frequently treat themselves to other cuisines, but I don't think they realize just how prevalent other cuisines are in American foods.
One reason for this, of course, is that without other cuisines America doesn't have one--we have, after all, defined ourselves as a nation of internal immigrants, each of whom brought their own unique flavors with them when they moved. It's what makes American cuisine so nebulous and hard to pin down as anything other than diverse--and what makes answering "what do you eat?" such a ticklish task.
Unless, of course, you narrow it down to a simpler question, like "what did you eat today?" And that one, today, was a fun one for me to answer, as well as one that highlights America's culinary diversity. Today, I celebrated my aunt and uncle's family by cooking a dish that originated in their adoptive country of Bolivia. I didn't have potatoes today to round out the dish, but I did have the other component parts (beef, rice, eggs, salsa) that make up the wonderfulness that is SILPANCHO!
So yes, I miss the deliciously bad for you and fantastically diverse cuisine of America. And what do I eat? Well, today, I eat silpancho!
I had the same problem at home--I would say I cooked for myself, and when people asked what, I would answer with an oh-so-dignified "Uhhhhh...." followed by something equally inane, like "chicken?"
Obviously, I eat. I would even go so far as to say that I eat pretty well, with a decent, though not chef-worthy, level of variety of meats and veggies and cuisines. But what are they, exactly? That, I couldn't say.
Some categories are easy: spaghetti, stir fry, meat and potatoes, salads, breads, tacos, soups, sandwiches. Beyond that, I often rely on a few steady cuisines: Italian, Thai, Mexican, some sort of "fusion" American (though I'll be the first to admit I have no idea what that means).
The problem, especially here, is that when I'm asked what I eat at home and the first things that come to mind are spaghetti and stir fry (which, in all honesty, I eat maybe once every two weeks), I'm then hard-pressed to explain to my Taiwanese friends why, exactly, I miss food from home. After all, most brunch shops here offer spaghetti, as do numerous other Western restaurants; as for stir fry, you'd be hard-pressed to go more than a few blocks here without hitting a dedicated restaurant. So why, they ask, and rightly so, do I miss food from home?
And that's where I get stuck. Why is it so hard to explain that everything, from the raw materials to the seasonings to the preparation methods, are different here? Or to mention how vastly the absence of things like convection ovens and non-American cheese (ironically the local favorite) affect one's ability to cook? Even now, I have a Taiwanese chocolate pudding in my fridge--a "pudding" the preparation for which required only water, not milk, and whose final consistency is closer to that of strawberry Jell-O than real, American-style pudding.
And what do Americans eat at home? As I tell my questioners, the answer to that is simply too vast for me to touch on. Americans eat everything. Every cuisine, tweaked a bit and catered to the American palate, shows up on American plates on a regular basis. Sure, here people may frequently treat themselves to other cuisines, but I don't think they realize just how prevalent other cuisines are in American foods.
One reason for this, of course, is that without other cuisines America doesn't have one--we have, after all, defined ourselves as a nation of internal immigrants, each of whom brought their own unique flavors with them when they moved. It's what makes American cuisine so nebulous and hard to pin down as anything other than diverse--and what makes answering "what do you eat?" such a ticklish task.
Unless, of course, you narrow it down to a simpler question, like "what did you eat today?" And that one, today, was a fun one for me to answer, as well as one that highlights America's culinary diversity. Today, I celebrated my aunt and uncle's family by cooking a dish that originated in their adoptive country of Bolivia. I didn't have potatoes today to round out the dish, but I did have the other component parts (beef, rice, eggs, salsa) that make up the wonderfulness that is SILPANCHO!
 |
| (The rice is under the meat patty, which is under the egg) |
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Food blog
Today, that's what you get. Because today is Friday at the end of a week during which I've slept little and not well, and today also happened to feature some particularly wonderful food. Food like...
More like a very creamy smoothie than a milkshake, if you ask me--I'd guess it was made with yogurt instead of ice cream--but still so so good! And, given how small it looked when I got it, it lasted for quite a while and filled me up with creamy strawberry-y goodness. And it even looked pretty, with a mint leaf on top.
I will definitely be going back for more at Sandwich Islands--at it's pretty cheap, too! My delish meal was just 198NT, or just under $6US. Mmmm....
The Tuna Fish
This little buddy was waiting for me at Shakespeare's Boulangerie, aware, as I was not, that the bagels I craved would not be there waiting for me. He was simply too adorable not to buy, and it wasn't until I got him home and took a bite that I realized that his oh-so-wonderful dough was filled with tuna salad. Unexpected (silly me--it is a fish, after all), but quite good!
Burger and fries
I know--of all the food things I could write about in Taiwan, I'm writing about a burger and fries??? Yes. Yes I am. It'd been too long since I'd had one, and this particular one came from Sandwich Islands, a place on the Love River that I've wanted to try out ever since I first noticed it existed several months ago. And, right when I was missing home, and home-style food, it hit the spot. As did...
a Strawberry milkshake
I will definitely be going back for more at Sandwich Islands--at it's pretty cheap, too! My delish meal was just 198NT, or just under $6US. Mmmm....
Monday, April 16, 2012
6 Ways Living in a Foreign Country Changes Your POV
I'm noted on here before that I enjoy occasionally delving into the ridiculous, but funny, annals of Cracked.com. For those who don't share my hobby (if you visit, be warned: its humor can get dirty), one of the hallmarks of their website is their list-format articles. For instance, the two stories currently leading on their homepage are "The 7 Most Insane Ways People Legally Avoided Paying Taxes" and "5 Things Flight Safety Presentations Should Mention."
I like this format. And, just now, I feel inspired to try it out. So, apart from the literal change in view that comes from being on a different side of the globe, how does living in a foreign country change your POV? Well...
1. All your holidays become multi-day events
I've written about this, I believe, at every holiday I've experienced here in Taiwan. Thanksgiving, or Christmas, or Easter, rolls around. "Aw," I think, "Another holiday away from home! Time to have a search for a turkey meal/Christmas Eve service/Eggs Benedict-making fest to compensate." I have said festivities, miss my family, but do the best I can to have a good holiday. Then I go to sleep.
And the next morning, surprise! It's still Thanksgiving/Christmas/Easter! Yep, due to the wonder of time zones and the fact that my hometown is a solid 15 or 16 hours (depending on Daylight Savings Time) behind Taiwan, my family is usually having their big celebration right around the time I'm eating breakfast and driving to school the next day.
Let's take Easter for our first example, since it happened most recently and my family was disappointed because I (whoops!) forgot to Skype in with them for the holiday. But, as I figured out afterwards, there was a reason for that. See, my family celebrates Easter in the early afternoon, like, say 1pm-4pm or so. Which, in Taiwan, would be 4am-7am. And, on any given Monday, my alarm goes off at 8am. So...yeah.
On the more successful Skype holidays, say, Christmas, for example, I Skyped my family three times over the course of two days: noon on Christmas (Christmas Eve at home), late at night on Christmas (Christmas morning), and afternoon on Boxing Day (Christmas night). Or, take Thanksgiving, which found me Skyping in the next day at lunchtime, with my Subway turkey sandwich, as my family cleaned off their Thanksgiving late-night snacks. It's bizarre, but it's something you eventually adjust to: holidays are as fluid as time zones when it comes to when they're celebrated. And you'd better be there for all of them.
2. Everyone's online at the wrong time.
All this talk about time zones brings me to my second point: you know all those people who've hassled you your whole life about not staying up too late? You know, the early birds who consider staying up past 11pm or sleeping past 9am to be some sort of freakish abnormality, not to be tolerated under any circumstances? Well---they are now your most reliable contacts.
On the flip side, never have I felt more rewarded to keep an abnormal sleeping schedule than I have since I moved here. Want to talk to someone? Better be okay with staying up till 2am. Want a lot of people to read your blog? Well then forget about posting before midnight, it's best if you wait till at least 3am to maximize readership. (True numbers there: Google Analytics tells all.)
And, really, developing dual communities on opposite sides of the globe just means you have twice as much stuff to do online, and doing it in sync with the local community necessitates more and more hours spent there. At this point, just about every time I open my Facebook I have a notification or four waiting--after all, while I'm sleeping or teaching, my friends back home are in their late-night Facebook mode! And then, on top of that, once I'm in my late-night Facebook mode, so are my friends here in Taiwan.
So I'm not actually complaining about this shift. It really works out pretty well for a night owl/online addict like me. But still, time zone shifts can be confusing, especially when you're dealing with facts like...
3. You have to re-memorize all publication schedules
This may not be a big deal for other people. And, truthfully, it's not *that* big of a deal for me, most of the time, since I had no functioning television in my house last year and so relied exclusively on Internet versions of shows, which always come out later to begin with. But. You still get used to certain release dates; you still (if you're me) know *exactly* when Bones will be up, and *exactly* when The Office will be. You also have to get used to the fact that none of the reputable sites you know and love are licensed for use where you are.
And there are websites that get updated on a time schedule, too--usually something like Monday/Wednesday/Friday, yet now rendered Tuesday/Thursday/Saturday. Or, if it's a daily site, perhaps it will seem to be updated twice-daily, since it posts directly in the middle of your viewing session.
So it's a mixed bag of good and bad, and it makes Internet content completely unpredictable until you master its patterns (which I haven't), and unfortunate fact given that, living in another country, you are 100% dependent on the Internet for everything, from translations to communications to media to procrastination. Take your normal dependence, multiply it by 100, and you've got a rough idea.
Now take into consideration that you don't know when stuff will be available. Of course, 'not knowing' is a normal state of being while living abroad, which leads us to how...
4. You acquire a deep empathy with all immigrants, ever.
This is actually the number 1 reason why I truly believe that EVERYONE should be required to live somewhere they can't communicate at some point in their lives. Preferably while they're young, since it's easier then and it avoids years of misunderstandings.
See, if there's one thing I've realized since moving to Taiwan, it's that living in a foreign country is hard! You don't know your way around, you don't know the culture, you know next to no one, and, to top it off (in my case, at least), you can't even find the answers to these things because you don't know the language.
Let me give you an example. When I was in high school/the beginning of college, I worked for Jamba Juice. And I remember, some of our best customers were foreigners from Asian countries. They would come in, looking earnest, and spend what seemed like hours studying the menu before coming to the front and ordering, pretty invariably, an orange-carrot juice. Asking size was a struggle, and when they had finished ordering and paying--usually in cash, with a $20 bill, you could see the look of relief on their faces as they stepped back to wait for their juice.
I'm not going to lie, as employees, we hated this: orange juice and carrot juice come from two massive, hard-to-clean machines which would sometimes otherwise go a day without being used; beside that, these customers always seemed to come right after we'd finished cleaning both machines for the night. It was pretty annoying.
Well...I'm pretty sure I now am that person. I think of them every time I step foot inside a coffee shop, or a juice shop, or a restaurant of any kind, and stare unknowing at the massive menu of indistinguishable words which must, I know, be the dishes I'm supposed to be ordering. I'll stare, and stare, pick out the few words I recognize, and then, usually, place one of my stock orders--drinks: latte (hot or cold; hazelnut or almond), watermelon juice, or milk tea, and meals: beef noodles, hamburger (if it's a Western place) or, more frequently, "this one," with a point at the menu. I feel accomplished, and happy, if I can pull this trick off without a hitch. Anything beyond it is unthinkably hard.
I then pay--always in cash, and quite frequently in the local equivalent of a $20 bill (ie the one most ATMs use), a 1,000NT (~$30USD) note, because that's how my money comes to me. Hopefully I'm not inconveniencing the employees with a notoriously hard order, but truth be told, if I were I would have no way of knowing, and they would have no way of telling me.
In another side story, I remember foreigners U-picking at the orchards I also worked at in high school. They would frequently come back with fruit they weren't supposed to have picked, and I remember one of my co-workers in particular getting very frustrated over the fact. Sometimes it was an honest mistake, but sometimes--and you could tell the difference--they were just playing the "I don't understand" card.
Now, I know that card. I love that card. It really is true, too: not knowing the dominant language in the country you're living in (or not knowing it well enough) is a HUGE get-out-of-jail-free card. Not literally, of course, but the fact is you can get away with quite a lot when you really don't know the rules, or have any way of finding them out. Playing the foreigner card can come in quite handy and, previous frustrations about it aside, it's actually pretty wonderful.
See, all these little things bundle together to make you know, in pretty good anagram, exactly how immigrants feel in YOUR country. And, while it's easy to write people off who can't speak your language at home (You're in America! Learn the language!), it's much more difficult to do so when the situation's been reversed, and you see firsthand exactly how difficult it is, and, more importantly, how long it takes, to do so.
This also applies to ethnic enclaves, another phenomenon I never quite understood until I moved here, and realized that, while living abroad...
5. You develop a sudden, simultaneous love for and mistrust of all things 'foreign'--aka, from home.
I've written about this before: whenever I go to church here, or, really, whenever I see a foreigner here, a little alarm goes off in my head. What is going on? What is/are he/she/they doing here? Why are there so many foreigners in one place? Something is not right!!!
See, when you're living in a country where you stick out like a sore thumb, you go through a couple of phases. 1: WOW I am seriously the only white person in a 10-mile radius right now. 2: Well obviously I'm the only white person in a 10-mile radius right now, this is TAIWAN. 3: Yes, I'm the only white person in a 10-mile radius right now, move along, folks.
Right around when you hit that third stage, it becomes absolutely shocking whenever you're proven wrong. It happens occasionally that I'll draw some stares when I'm out on my scooter or on the MRT (I learned to ignore it sometime around stage 2 above), but when I see a white person in a similar context, I full-on stare. I can't seem to help myself. All memories of how much I dislike being stared at go out the window as I grapple with the unnerving realization that there's more than one of us here! It actually makes me quite uncomfortable, a fact which bodes interestingly for when I go back home in July...
And of course alongside this is the sudden idolization of all things American. We're going out to Western food? Fantastic! There's a Starbucks on that corner? Hooray! They serve red meat there? My day is made!
It's an odd juxtaposition, really, this love-hate relationship you develop with 'home,' and one which I suppose reinforces somewhat the idea that...
6. The whole world suddenly seems like it's just a whim (and a few saved paychecks) away
Obviously, moving across the world is a huge step, and one that involves a TON of planning, paying, and travel time. But, once you've done it, it becomes remarkably apparent just how feasible it is to do. Pick up and move to another country? Sure, why not!
As an outgrowth of that, then, travel becomes the most natural thing in the world. Want go to Thailand for a week? Sure, why not! How about Australia? Why yes I would, sign me up!
I've yet to determine whether these impulses come solely, or just primarily, from living abroad, or if they're more a product of having a full-time job (and salary) for the first time. But, for me, at least, I can't help but think it's probably largely because I'm living abroad. I mean, really, my wages are pretty low by US standards, and flight prices don't vary based on local cost of living (a bum deal, really), but even so it seems 100% natural and easy to travel widely while I'm here.
At the core of it is the realization that long plane rides really aren't that long, and that international travel, if you can keep a cool head about it, is pretty easy. And, especially once you've adjusted to living in a culture in an infantile state of non-knowing, it doesn't really matter where you display your ignorance; beyond that, you've developed the very specific skill-set necessary to navigate an unknown location using only hand signals and whatever level of English whoever you're talking to happens to know.
It's liberating, really: when you known nothing, and know you know nothing, you can go anywhere. Now that's a sentence I never would have written before moving here...oh, the joys of a fresh POV.
I like this format. And, just now, I feel inspired to try it out. So, apart from the literal change in view that comes from being on a different side of the globe, how does living in a foreign country change your POV? Well...
1. All your holidays become multi-day events
I've written about this, I believe, at every holiday I've experienced here in Taiwan. Thanksgiving, or Christmas, or Easter, rolls around. "Aw," I think, "Another holiday away from home! Time to have a search for a turkey meal/Christmas Eve service/Eggs Benedict-making fest to compensate." I have said festivities, miss my family, but do the best I can to have a good holiday. Then I go to sleep.
And the next morning, surprise! It's still Thanksgiving/Christmas/Easter! Yep, due to the wonder of time zones and the fact that my hometown is a solid 15 or 16 hours (depending on Daylight Savings Time) behind Taiwan, my family is usually having their big celebration right around the time I'm eating breakfast and driving to school the next day.
Let's take Easter for our first example, since it happened most recently and my family was disappointed because I (whoops!) forgot to Skype in with them for the holiday. But, as I figured out afterwards, there was a reason for that. See, my family celebrates Easter in the early afternoon, like, say 1pm-4pm or so. Which, in Taiwan, would be 4am-7am. And, on any given Monday, my alarm goes off at 8am. So...yeah.
On the more successful Skype holidays, say, Christmas, for example, I Skyped my family three times over the course of two days: noon on Christmas (Christmas Eve at home), late at night on Christmas (Christmas morning), and afternoon on Boxing Day (Christmas night). Or, take Thanksgiving, which found me Skyping in the next day at lunchtime, with my Subway turkey sandwich, as my family cleaned off their Thanksgiving late-night snacks. It's bizarre, but it's something you eventually adjust to: holidays are as fluid as time zones when it comes to when they're celebrated. And you'd better be there for all of them.
2. Everyone's online at the wrong time.
All this talk about time zones brings me to my second point: you know all those people who've hassled you your whole life about not staying up too late? You know, the early birds who consider staying up past 11pm or sleeping past 9am to be some sort of freakish abnormality, not to be tolerated under any circumstances? Well---they are now your most reliable contacts.
On the flip side, never have I felt more rewarded to keep an abnormal sleeping schedule than I have since I moved here. Want to talk to someone? Better be okay with staying up till 2am. Want a lot of people to read your blog? Well then forget about posting before midnight, it's best if you wait till at least 3am to maximize readership. (True numbers there: Google Analytics tells all.)
And, really, developing dual communities on opposite sides of the globe just means you have twice as much stuff to do online, and doing it in sync with the local community necessitates more and more hours spent there. At this point, just about every time I open my Facebook I have a notification or four waiting--after all, while I'm sleeping or teaching, my friends back home are in their late-night Facebook mode! And then, on top of that, once I'm in my late-night Facebook mode, so are my friends here in Taiwan.
So I'm not actually complaining about this shift. It really works out pretty well for a night owl/online addict like me. But still, time zone shifts can be confusing, especially when you're dealing with facts like...
3. You have to re-memorize all publication schedules
This may not be a big deal for other people. And, truthfully, it's not *that* big of a deal for me, most of the time, since I had no functioning television in my house last year and so relied exclusively on Internet versions of shows, which always come out later to begin with. But. You still get used to certain release dates; you still (if you're me) know *exactly* when Bones will be up, and *exactly* when The Office will be. You also have to get used to the fact that none of the reputable sites you know and love are licensed for use where you are.
And there are websites that get updated on a time schedule, too--usually something like Monday/Wednesday/Friday, yet now rendered Tuesday/Thursday/Saturday. Or, if it's a daily site, perhaps it will seem to be updated twice-daily, since it posts directly in the middle of your viewing session.
So it's a mixed bag of good and bad, and it makes Internet content completely unpredictable until you master its patterns (which I haven't), and unfortunate fact given that, living in another country, you are 100% dependent on the Internet for everything, from translations to communications to media to procrastination. Take your normal dependence, multiply it by 100, and you've got a rough idea.
Now take into consideration that you don't know when stuff will be available. Of course, 'not knowing' is a normal state of being while living abroad, which leads us to how...
4. You acquire a deep empathy with all immigrants, ever.
This is actually the number 1 reason why I truly believe that EVERYONE should be required to live somewhere they can't communicate at some point in their lives. Preferably while they're young, since it's easier then and it avoids years of misunderstandings.
See, if there's one thing I've realized since moving to Taiwan, it's that living in a foreign country is hard! You don't know your way around, you don't know the culture, you know next to no one, and, to top it off (in my case, at least), you can't even find the answers to these things because you don't know the language.
Let me give you an example. When I was in high school/the beginning of college, I worked for Jamba Juice. And I remember, some of our best customers were foreigners from Asian countries. They would come in, looking earnest, and spend what seemed like hours studying the menu before coming to the front and ordering, pretty invariably, an orange-carrot juice. Asking size was a struggle, and when they had finished ordering and paying--usually in cash, with a $20 bill, you could see the look of relief on their faces as they stepped back to wait for their juice.
I'm not going to lie, as employees, we hated this: orange juice and carrot juice come from two massive, hard-to-clean machines which would sometimes otherwise go a day without being used; beside that, these customers always seemed to come right after we'd finished cleaning both machines for the night. It was pretty annoying.
Well...I'm pretty sure I now am that person. I think of them every time I step foot inside a coffee shop, or a juice shop, or a restaurant of any kind, and stare unknowing at the massive menu of indistinguishable words which must, I know, be the dishes I'm supposed to be ordering. I'll stare, and stare, pick out the few words I recognize, and then, usually, place one of my stock orders--drinks: latte (hot or cold; hazelnut or almond), watermelon juice, or milk tea, and meals: beef noodles, hamburger (if it's a Western place) or, more frequently, "this one," with a point at the menu. I feel accomplished, and happy, if I can pull this trick off without a hitch. Anything beyond it is unthinkably hard.
I then pay--always in cash, and quite frequently in the local equivalent of a $20 bill (ie the one most ATMs use), a 1,000NT (~$30USD) note, because that's how my money comes to me. Hopefully I'm not inconveniencing the employees with a notoriously hard order, but truth be told, if I were I would have no way of knowing, and they would have no way of telling me.
In another side story, I remember foreigners U-picking at the orchards I also worked at in high school. They would frequently come back with fruit they weren't supposed to have picked, and I remember one of my co-workers in particular getting very frustrated over the fact. Sometimes it was an honest mistake, but sometimes--and you could tell the difference--they were just playing the "I don't understand" card.
Now, I know that card. I love that card. It really is true, too: not knowing the dominant language in the country you're living in (or not knowing it well enough) is a HUGE get-out-of-jail-free card. Not literally, of course, but the fact is you can get away with quite a lot when you really don't know the rules, or have any way of finding them out. Playing the foreigner card can come in quite handy and, previous frustrations about it aside, it's actually pretty wonderful.
See, all these little things bundle together to make you know, in pretty good anagram, exactly how immigrants feel in YOUR country. And, while it's easy to write people off who can't speak your language at home (You're in America! Learn the language!), it's much more difficult to do so when the situation's been reversed, and you see firsthand exactly how difficult it is, and, more importantly, how long it takes, to do so.
This also applies to ethnic enclaves, another phenomenon I never quite understood until I moved here, and realized that, while living abroad...
5. You develop a sudden, simultaneous love for and mistrust of all things 'foreign'--aka, from home.
I've written about this before: whenever I go to church here, or, really, whenever I see a foreigner here, a little alarm goes off in my head. What is going on? What is/are he/she/they doing here? Why are there so many foreigners in one place? Something is not right!!!
See, when you're living in a country where you stick out like a sore thumb, you go through a couple of phases. 1: WOW I am seriously the only white person in a 10-mile radius right now. 2: Well obviously I'm the only white person in a 10-mile radius right now, this is TAIWAN. 3: Yes, I'm the only white person in a 10-mile radius right now, move along, folks.
Right around when you hit that third stage, it becomes absolutely shocking whenever you're proven wrong. It happens occasionally that I'll draw some stares when I'm out on my scooter or on the MRT (I learned to ignore it sometime around stage 2 above), but when I see a white person in a similar context, I full-on stare. I can't seem to help myself. All memories of how much I dislike being stared at go out the window as I grapple with the unnerving realization that there's more than one of us here! It actually makes me quite uncomfortable, a fact which bodes interestingly for when I go back home in July...
And of course alongside this is the sudden idolization of all things American. We're going out to Western food? Fantastic! There's a Starbucks on that corner? Hooray! They serve red meat there? My day is made!
It's an odd juxtaposition, really, this love-hate relationship you develop with 'home,' and one which I suppose reinforces somewhat the idea that...
6. The whole world suddenly seems like it's just a whim (and a few saved paychecks) away
Obviously, moving across the world is a huge step, and one that involves a TON of planning, paying, and travel time. But, once you've done it, it becomes remarkably apparent just how feasible it is to do. Pick up and move to another country? Sure, why not!
As an outgrowth of that, then, travel becomes the most natural thing in the world. Want go to Thailand for a week? Sure, why not! How about Australia? Why yes I would, sign me up!
I've yet to determine whether these impulses come solely, or just primarily, from living abroad, or if they're more a product of having a full-time job (and salary) for the first time. But, for me, at least, I can't help but think it's probably largely because I'm living abroad. I mean, really, my wages are pretty low by US standards, and flight prices don't vary based on local cost of living (a bum deal, really), but even so it seems 100% natural and easy to travel widely while I'm here.
At the core of it is the realization that long plane rides really aren't that long, and that international travel, if you can keep a cool head about it, is pretty easy. And, especially once you've adjusted to living in a culture in an infantile state of non-knowing, it doesn't really matter where you display your ignorance; beyond that, you've developed the very specific skill-set necessary to navigate an unknown location using only hand signals and whatever level of English whoever you're talking to happens to know.
It's liberating, really: when you known nothing, and know you know nothing, you can go anywhere. Now that's a sentence I never would have written before moving here...oh, the joys of a fresh POV.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Back to the Basics
I've come to realize that I'm one of those people who love the basics. When I read, I often pick up the classics: basic. When I go shopping, I pick clothes with bold colors and classic styles: basic. When I think of a great day, I think of a day without a schedule, involving such things as sleep, good coffee, good books, good company: basic. In fact, in most things, from daily activities to theology, I'm a big fan of Occam's razor.
It's somewhat of an ironic fact about me, really: I love details, I love finding tiny errors and correcting them--I want to be an editor, after all; yet, at the same time, what I long for is simplicity.
Which means today was lovely. After an early wake-up call and trip to the airport to say goodbye to Kaitlin, who had an unfortunately long trip home ahead of her (it's midnight here and we left for the airport at 6am, but she still has another 6 hours to go, by my count), I slumped home on the MRT and went back to sleep for a few hours. When I awoke, I was met with the happy news that Rachel had waited for me to go to Costco, and at Costco I found some good ol' fashioned American basics like cheese, wheat bread, and chips and salsa. To round out my trip, I couldn't resist going for one of Costco's signature hot dogs. Pork instead of beef here, but still SO good.
I then got home and discovered that my rotisserie chicken had gone back a little too basic, in my own humble opinion:
I spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for my first tutoring session tonight, with a young man named Hal whose father is a homeroom teacher at Hanmin. And, by preparing, I mean writing out a general outline of things we should do, and then re-reading the first chapter of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and writing a bunch of reading comprehension questions on the content. Nothing more basic than one of my favorite books of all time!
Except perhaps the tutoring itself. I arrived at the cafe early and grabbed a cup of delicious coffee, and when Hal got there, we got down to work--on his writing and almost solely his writing. It was so much fun! I spent three years in college as a writing tutor, doing what I could for students' full length papers in little half hour segments; working on others' papers is a matter of course for me. But half hour sessions are not nearly enough to fully address all the issues in a paper, as I learned today, as Hal and I took a full hour and a half to pore over his two paragraph practice test essay.
It was glorious: all the skills I've honed over the past few years, but expanded out into a fuller time frame that allowed us to take a piece of writing from draft stage through a full work-up of structure and grammar (subjunctive mood played a key role in today's lesson) to rewrites of specific sentences to re-copying the whole thing in corrected form, allowing Hal to walk away with an example for future works. I loved it: back to the basics of English tutoring, and tutoring itself.
At home, an HBO series of Matt Damon movies (I caught the very strange and confusing second half of The Talented Mr. Ripley, and then the entirety of the also confusing and certainly not basic but, for me, intriguing The Adjustment Bureau, which led to an abortive convoluted theological conversation with Analicia which did, in fact, help to inspire this post) served as a nice break from some of the ridiculousness they've been showing lately, and after it finished I had the treat of listening to a podcast by the great Judah Smith, who always challenges me with his fantastic ability to bring everything back to the utmost basic of Christian faith: Jesus.
I love complex thought; I love teasing out inconsistencies and exploring convoluted new notions. I love experiencing new things. But that's just it: even when I'm delving into extraordinarily complicated notions, I do it with the intent of smoothing out the wrinkles and revealing the bigger picture, clean and pressed through the action of delving. I see complications as a juicy challenge on the way to clarity.
Because, to me, as much fun as labyrinthine experiences are, all those in the maze really have the same goal: to get out of the twists and turns--to get back to the basics.
It's somewhat of an ironic fact about me, really: I love details, I love finding tiny errors and correcting them--I want to be an editor, after all; yet, at the same time, what I long for is simplicity.
Which means today was lovely. After an early wake-up call and trip to the airport to say goodbye to Kaitlin, who had an unfortunately long trip home ahead of her (it's midnight here and we left for the airport at 6am, but she still has another 6 hours to go, by my count), I slumped home on the MRT and went back to sleep for a few hours. When I awoke, I was met with the happy news that Rachel had waited for me to go to Costco, and at Costco I found some good ol' fashioned American basics like cheese, wheat bread, and chips and salsa. To round out my trip, I couldn't resist going for one of Costco's signature hot dogs. Pork instead of beef here, but still SO good.
I then got home and discovered that my rotisserie chicken had gone back a little too basic, in my own humble opinion:
 | |||||||
| It had a head still. True reaction. |
Except perhaps the tutoring itself. I arrived at the cafe early and grabbed a cup of delicious coffee, and when Hal got there, we got down to work--on his writing and almost solely his writing. It was so much fun! I spent three years in college as a writing tutor, doing what I could for students' full length papers in little half hour segments; working on others' papers is a matter of course for me. But half hour sessions are not nearly enough to fully address all the issues in a paper, as I learned today, as Hal and I took a full hour and a half to pore over his two paragraph practice test essay.
It was glorious: all the skills I've honed over the past few years, but expanded out into a fuller time frame that allowed us to take a piece of writing from draft stage through a full work-up of structure and grammar (subjunctive mood played a key role in today's lesson) to rewrites of specific sentences to re-copying the whole thing in corrected form, allowing Hal to walk away with an example for future works. I loved it: back to the basics of English tutoring, and tutoring itself.
At home, an HBO series of Matt Damon movies (I caught the very strange and confusing second half of The Talented Mr. Ripley, and then the entirety of the also confusing and certainly not basic but, for me, intriguing The Adjustment Bureau, which led to an abortive convoluted theological conversation with Analicia which did, in fact, help to inspire this post) served as a nice break from some of the ridiculousness they've been showing lately, and after it finished I had the treat of listening to a podcast by the great Judah Smith, who always challenges me with his fantastic ability to bring everything back to the utmost basic of Christian faith: Jesus.
I love complex thought; I love teasing out inconsistencies and exploring convoluted new notions. I love experiencing new things. But that's just it: even when I'm delving into extraordinarily complicated notions, I do it with the intent of smoothing out the wrinkles and revealing the bigger picture, clean and pressed through the action of delving. I see complications as a juicy challenge on the way to clarity.
Because, to me, as much fun as labyrinthine experiences are, all those in the maze really have the same goal: to get out of the twists and turns--to get back to the basics.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Still sandwiches
I already spent a good portion of time today wrestling with Blogger to get yesterday's post up, and it's fairly late now and I work tomorrow morning, so I'll let this serve as a sort of addendum to my previous post.
Yes, I know what you're thinking: yesterday's post was about sandwiches. What's there to add? Well, this:
This is Taiwan's direct response to my commentary on its sandwiches. Still in a sandwich-craving mood--I was fighting with my post this morning, after all, which involved re-Googling all the images--I decided to try out Handwich, the cafe Samia recommended to me. And, as the picture indicates, I was not disappointed. This sandwich was like "You think there's no good sandwiches in Taiwan? You think Muddy Waters holds the monopoly around here on big ol' heaps of stuff between slices of hearty bread? Then take a look at ME!"
Glorious, two-hands-and-several-napkins-required rosemary chicken on focaccia goodness, together with fries (you can see them peeking through in the middle) and a hot coffee for a mere 159NT (~$5US). Okay, so it was still a little steep. Totally worth it, though.
I love it when Taiwan proves me wrong.
---
Also, this is my 200th consecutive daily post. Woohoo! Hard to believe it's been that long, but you can expect at least another 138 to come.
Yes, I know what you're thinking: yesterday's post was about sandwiches. What's there to add? Well, this:
Glorious, two-hands-and-several-napkins-required rosemary chicken on focaccia goodness, together with fries (you can see them peeking through in the middle) and a hot coffee for a mere 159NT (~$5US). Okay, so it was still a little steep. Totally worth it, though.
I love it when Taiwan proves me wrong.
---
Also, this is my 200th consecutive daily post. Woohoo! Hard to believe it's been that long, but you can expect at least another 138 to come.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
I need a sandwich.
Those who know me on Facebook will know that last night, I
got a craving for a sandwich. A real sandwich.
I'm guessing this distinction will make no sense for those
who haven't lived in Taiwan, so let me explain. Here, when I tell people that I
eat a sandwich for lunch most days--just a sandwich, with maybe a piece of
fruit on the side--they look at me like I'm crazy. "Aren't you
hungry?" they ask, their face showing utter horror at the prospect.
See, in Taiwan, sandwiches look like this:
Take a close look: four pieces of very white, very soft,
very nutrition-free bread, with wafer thin slices of egg, ham, and egg stuck
between them with mayonnaise. Also, it's only a half. And I chose these
pictures with care: if you look at the label, you can see that this sandwich is
from a place called 85*, which is a major, and pretty nice/spendy, Taiwanese
bakery/cafe chain. This is what their sandwiches look like; in the Taiwanese
mind, this is what a sandwich looks like: lots of bread, cut in a triangle,
with tiny toppings hiding between layers of mayo.
By contrast, when I say sandwich, I mean like this:
Or like this:
Or even like this:
You better use 2 hands for those puppies, and you better not
have any dessert plans. The bread is tougher and grainier (this is literally
the only instance I can think of where that is a good thing), more complex, and
even so it takes a back seat to the gloriously thick pile of sliced meat and
veggies. Just Googling these images made me hungry.
So today, I satisfied my cravings at one of the very very
few places in Kaohsiung where that is possible: Muddy Waters. It's not near my
apartment; it was about a 20 minute scooter ride to get there, but it was 100%
worth it. They speak English as a matter of course there, easily directing me
through their fully English menu and explaining that it would cost 10% more if
I wanted to change my order to "for here." They weren't exactly
friendly and it wasn't exactly cheap, but I didn't care: I walked out of there
with a fat ham and turkey sandwich with Pepper jack cheese on walnut rye bread,
with "everything."
I couldn't wait to get home with my treasure; I crossed the
street and found one of the most beautiful parks I've ever seen, where I sat on
a bench enjoying my sandwich with two hands as a parade of people out walking
their dogs or playing in the sun with their kids strolled by. A little boy
glared at me as his dad tried to get him to say "hello," and numerous
dogs got called away just as they got within hungry sniffing distance of my
sandwich. It wouldn't have mattered, though: I wasn't sharing.
Samia mentioned another sandwich shop in town, not far from
my route to church. Methinks tomorrow will hold another sandwich for this
hungry American. A real one.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Pictures, videos, and more pictures
That's been my day: uploading, editing, and sharing. Honestly, it's
somewhat exhausting sorting through vacation pictures, if you also want
to edit them, upload them to Facebook, comment on them, tag people, and
mark where they were taken. This is especially true if, as today,
Facebook tells you with some regularity that you don't have permission
to edit your own albums, for some bizarre reason.
Anyway, here's the fruits of my labor, in the form of my first Thailand album and the link to my Youtube page, where you can find my videos chronicling dancing elephants and elephant ridie in Chiang Mai, and hundreds of thousands of terrified crabs and a gorgeous sunset with the sound of a muezzin call at Krabi.
Pictures: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2644331434819.2114580.1451610020&type=1&l=04c4bfe453
and video:
http://www.youtube.com/user/grahamcrackersarecoo?blend=1&ob=0
More pictures are forthcoming.
But also, today's one new thing!
Thing 10:
I ventured outside my restaurant comfort zone today and began my exploration of the streets behind my apartment. Today, that meant a nice stroll along the backside of the street reading menus until I got to the oven-baked pizza place which throws its garlic-and-cheese smell out into the street for all to covet. Once there, I was able to ask in Chinese whether or not they could do take-out (they could) and then used my standard point-and-say method to order myself a Margherita pizza, one of my all-time favorites, before sitting down to await it. I was the only person in the shop when I went in, but I seem to have brought the customers with me, as two or three people trickled in as I sat there. Interesting phenomenon...going to have to keep an eye on it.
Armed with my pizza, I walked back by way of a busy little restaurant I've been eying for a while now, for its juice stand section. (My favorite juice stand went out of business a few months ago.) So I stopped in and ordered a watermelon juice, only to discover that the staff is all but surly, and there is absolutely nowhere to stand in that restaurant without being in someone's way, especially while holding a pizza box. Maybe I'll try again--it is the only juice stand I know of nearby--but it was supremely awkward. At least the juice was tasty.
When I got home, I discovered that my pizza was not, in fact, Margherita, but something else altogether, with shredded cheese, sliced cherry tomatoes, and not a basil leaf in sight. Very sad, and odd since I heard the waitress repeat my order twice, both to me and to the pizza maker, yet he somehow still made it wrong. Oh well, it was still decent, just not terribly awe- or trust-inspiring for this particular shop.
Anyway, here's what I got for my adventures in dinnertime. You win some, you lose some.
Anyway, here's the fruits of my labor, in the form of my first Thailand album and the link to my Youtube page, where you can find my videos chronicling dancing elephants and elephant ridie in Chiang Mai, and hundreds of thousands of terrified crabs and a gorgeous sunset with the sound of a muezzin call at Krabi.
Pictures: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2644331434819.2114580.1451610020&type=1&l=04c4bfe453
and video:
http://www.youtube.com/user/grahamcrackersarecoo?blend=1&ob=0
More pictures are forthcoming.
But also, today's one new thing!
Thing 10:
I ventured outside my restaurant comfort zone today and began my exploration of the streets behind my apartment. Today, that meant a nice stroll along the backside of the street reading menus until I got to the oven-baked pizza place which throws its garlic-and-cheese smell out into the street for all to covet. Once there, I was able to ask in Chinese whether or not they could do take-out (they could) and then used my standard point-and-say method to order myself a Margherita pizza, one of my all-time favorites, before sitting down to await it. I was the only person in the shop when I went in, but I seem to have brought the customers with me, as two or three people trickled in as I sat there. Interesting phenomenon...going to have to keep an eye on it.
Armed with my pizza, I walked back by way of a busy little restaurant I've been eying for a while now, for its juice stand section. (My favorite juice stand went out of business a few months ago.) So I stopped in and ordered a watermelon juice, only to discover that the staff is all but surly, and there is absolutely nowhere to stand in that restaurant without being in someone's way, especially while holding a pizza box. Maybe I'll try again--it is the only juice stand I know of nearby--but it was supremely awkward. At least the juice was tasty.
When I got home, I discovered that my pizza was not, in fact, Margherita, but something else altogether, with shredded cheese, sliced cherry tomatoes, and not a basil leaf in sight. Very sad, and odd since I heard the waitress repeat my order twice, both to me and to the pizza maker, yet he somehow still made it wrong. Oh well, it was still decent, just not terribly awe- or trust-inspiring for this particular shop.
Anyway, here's what I got for my adventures in dinnertime. You win some, you lose some.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Shifting
As I noted earlier, I slept until 10am today.
But that was the end of my non-productivity. After that, I was on a roll, still in Thailand adventure mode, but now in Kaohsiung, and so putting that energy towards productive things like unpacking, doing laundry, running errands, backing up my hard drive, uploading photos (but not editing yet--sorry, they'll be up soon!), etc etc. This, of course, contributed to several one new things. And, as it's late now, I'll just throw out a few before I hit the sack.
Thing 7:
I tried a "Mexican cake" at Brunch, across the street. I've been assuming it was a quesadilla for a few months now, but had never gotten around to trying it. Today, when I told the cashier I wanted the cheese one, she said it was "甜的," or sweet, which confused me like crazy (partly because I had gone over a week without using my Chinese; partly because why would a quesadilla be sweet?) and she suggested I do the chicken one instead. The chicken one, as it turned out, was like a quesadilla--chicken, peppers and onions in a folded grilled tortilla--but without the queso. I mean seriously, no cheese in a quesadilla? What is this! Good, actually--just not as good as I'd expected from this fabled Mexican cake.
Thing 8:
I went to the post office! Funny thing, it's literally three blocks from my apartment, jammed in between several places I frequent often (grocery store, favorite Taiwanese restaurant; a block from the fruit stand), but I had never noticed it before. I asked Fonda where the nearest post office was a few weeks back, and even with the street name I looked for it across the street at first and was (obviously) disappointed.
But today I went! And discovered that mail here is so-so on pricing, and that simply saying "美國" (America) and shoving a pile of letters at the postal worker works perfectly well to communicate that you want to send them to America. Also of note is that the post office is actually 2/3 bank, 1/3 post office, and that none of the stamps (or envelopes) here have their own adhesive, so my trip today involved standing at the counter with a glue stick affixing each stamp individually to my already-taped envelopes, as dozens of people sat behind me waiting to deposit money in their savings accounts.
Thing 9:
I went to TGIFridays! I don't think I've actually even been to one in the States before; I noticed it here my first week in Kaohsiung, and earmarked it as somewhere to go when I needed Western food, but had never followed through on the idea. Until today, when Rachel's mom Barbara invited me to join them! We had a delicious meal of shared appetizers (real quesadillas, potato skins, and chicken fingers), salads (chicken Caesar for Rachel; steak for Rachel's mom and I), drinks, and to-go molten chocolate cake for Rachel and I. Delicious, and fantastic when coupled with a great conversation! I'll have to go back sometime.
Well, that's it for tonight. Lots of photos to edit tomorrow, and another retrospective blogpost to write--look for pictures, videos and more blogs on here then, as I keep shifting from Thai adventures to Taiwanese daily life.
But that was the end of my non-productivity. After that, I was on a roll, still in Thailand adventure mode, but now in Kaohsiung, and so putting that energy towards productive things like unpacking, doing laundry, running errands, backing up my hard drive, uploading photos (but not editing yet--sorry, they'll be up soon!), etc etc. This, of course, contributed to several one new things. And, as it's late now, I'll just throw out a few before I hit the sack.
Thing 7:
I tried a "Mexican cake" at Brunch, across the street. I've been assuming it was a quesadilla for a few months now, but had never gotten around to trying it. Today, when I told the cashier I wanted the cheese one, she said it was "甜的," or sweet, which confused me like crazy (partly because I had gone over a week without using my Chinese; partly because why would a quesadilla be sweet?) and she suggested I do the chicken one instead. The chicken one, as it turned out, was like a quesadilla--chicken, peppers and onions in a folded grilled tortilla--but without the queso. I mean seriously, no cheese in a quesadilla? What is this! Good, actually--just not as good as I'd expected from this fabled Mexican cake.
Thing 8:
I went to the post office! Funny thing, it's literally three blocks from my apartment, jammed in between several places I frequent often (grocery store, favorite Taiwanese restaurant; a block from the fruit stand), but I had never noticed it before. I asked Fonda where the nearest post office was a few weeks back, and even with the street name I looked for it across the street at first and was (obviously) disappointed.
But today I went! And discovered that mail here is so-so on pricing, and that simply saying "美國" (America) and shoving a pile of letters at the postal worker works perfectly well to communicate that you want to send them to America. Also of note is that the post office is actually 2/3 bank, 1/3 post office, and that none of the stamps (or envelopes) here have their own adhesive, so my trip today involved standing at the counter with a glue stick affixing each stamp individually to my already-taped envelopes, as dozens of people sat behind me waiting to deposit money in their savings accounts.
Thing 9:
I went to TGIFridays! I don't think I've actually even been to one in the States before; I noticed it here my first week in Kaohsiung, and earmarked it as somewhere to go when I needed Western food, but had never followed through on the idea. Until today, when Rachel's mom Barbara invited me to join them! We had a delicious meal of shared appetizers (real quesadillas, potato skins, and chicken fingers), salads (chicken Caesar for Rachel; steak for Rachel's mom and I), drinks, and to-go molten chocolate cake for Rachel and I. Delicious, and fantastic when coupled with a great conversation! I'll have to go back sometime.
Well, that's it for tonight. Lots of photos to edit tomorrow, and another retrospective blogpost to write--look for pictures, videos and more blogs on here then, as I keep shifting from Thai adventures to Taiwanese daily life.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Theoretically the 29th
Technically, 1:28am in Singapore (and Taiwan), so 12:28am in Thailand, which is still not the 29th, but this is still pretty close to actually blogging all but one day of our stay in Thailand. Hooray!
So, we're currently in the Singapore airport, enduring a 6-hour overnight layover (cheap flights always have downsides...), and discovering that Singapore is the absolute best place ever to have a long layover. Their motto is "The feeling is first class," and it certainly does feel that way: wide open spaces, uber clean glass walls, smooth-running escalators, pristine stretches of (now-empty) carpet, free internet kiosks, an overnight cafe which smells scrumptious...and, as we just discovered, lounge chairs. Those will be our beds tonight.
In the meantime: today. It's been full. And a little crazy, for several reasons and on several occasions. Best of times, worst of times. A Dickensian day, if you will.
It started early, 7am, with a buffet breakfast and a rendezvous with our friend at the tour center, an older guy with so-so English who told us we could get a 2-hour snorkelling trip for two to Bamboo Island and Mosquito Island for 1,000 baht (~30USD). We said sign us up!
Snorkelling was glorious: after a 20 minute longtail boat journey, we started at Bamboo Island, where our driver parked on the beach near the coral; for me, a complete newbie at this whole being-in-the-ocean thing, it was perfect. I got to wade into it, literally, with the deepest spot I found about waist deep, and just float as I saw parrot fish, angelfish, leapord fish (campoflauged beautifully!), dozens of unidentified smaller fish, of course a fair amount of (unfortunately smallish) coral, sea cucumbers, some gorgeous peacock-blue floral-looking things, and, my favorite, a deflated puffer fish. Karina didn't snorkel much there, since she prefers deep water, but I loved it, my bi-minutely shark scans (I read too much for my own good) notwithstanding.
Then, after a brief verbal scuffle with someone trying to charge us to stay at the beach for an hour, we set out for Mosquito Island where, despite the name, I saw not a single mosquito.
What I did see, though, was fish. THOUSANDS of them, all swimming about and above a magnificent reef off the side of a limestone cliff. This one was deeper, and we didn't go to the shore, but just flopped out of the boat into what felt like an aquarium. Here were all the fish I saw before (except the puffer), plus some groupers, a Dory-like fish, some truly rainbow colored fish, and more varieties of others than I could possibly name. It was glorious.
All-in-all, a wonderful first snorkelling experience and, for that matter, first ocean-swimming experience. But I discovered that I love everything about swimming in salt water except the salt water. Despite my best efforts, it would NOT stay out of my mask and mouthpiece, leading to a few moments where I felt like I was drowning--many of which happened, not coincidentally, when I was in the deep water, barred from standing up and a long swim from my boat. Also, Karina delighted in throwing bread at me, upon which hundreds of thousands of fish would then converge--which is, by the way, TERRIFYING to experience inches from your face.
So snorkelling was great. When we got back, we checked out and I checked into the local massage place, where I treated myself to a lovely oil massage (at triple the prices of the mainland, unfortunately, though still four times cheaper than America) while Karina sunbathed. Then it was a rather rushed buffet lunch and just catching our 1pm ferry back to Phuket.
In Phuket, things got...interesting. For some unknown reason, not nearly enough taxis had shown up to service people coming off the ferry and, as all the minibuses were full, too, we decided to foot it to Phuket town (a 15 minute walk, we were told), eat dinner there and spend the rest of our Thai money (I REALLY wanted another hour or two of Thai experience), and then catch a minibus to the airport. A long walk past illegal taxi- and motorbike-hawkers later, we stopped in at a 7-11 and stepped out to find it was raining. And, of course, by then all taxis had disappeared.
At least this time my travel curse waited till we were off the beach.
About an hour, three stops for directions with some-English-speaking locals and several kilometers of walking and watching minibus after minibus speed by without stopping later, we found a wonderful Thai family who spoke decent English and called a taxi for us, which arrived just as it was starting to get dark for the last-minute save.
So we ate in the Phuket airport, bought a few postcards, rearranged our stuff, sat around, got frustrated with line-cutters at immigration, jostled for service with determined, yet non-English or Thai-speaking Chinese tourists with meal vouchers at Dairy Queen, and finally boarded our (delayed) flight for Singapore.
And now we're here, using our free Internet but more than ready to seek out the fabled "snooze chairs" the airport is advertising every time our 15 minute sessions run out. After all, the 29th has been a very long, though wonderful, day.
So, we're currently in the Singapore airport, enduring a 6-hour overnight layover (cheap flights always have downsides...), and discovering that Singapore is the absolute best place ever to have a long layover. Their motto is "The feeling is first class," and it certainly does feel that way: wide open spaces, uber clean glass walls, smooth-running escalators, pristine stretches of (now-empty) carpet, free internet kiosks, an overnight cafe which smells scrumptious...and, as we just discovered, lounge chairs. Those will be our beds tonight.
In the meantime: today. It's been full. And a little crazy, for several reasons and on several occasions. Best of times, worst of times. A Dickensian day, if you will.
It started early, 7am, with a buffet breakfast and a rendezvous with our friend at the tour center, an older guy with so-so English who told us we could get a 2-hour snorkelling trip for two to Bamboo Island and Mosquito Island for 1,000 baht (~30USD). We said sign us up!
Snorkelling was glorious: after a 20 minute longtail boat journey, we started at Bamboo Island, where our driver parked on the beach near the coral; for me, a complete newbie at this whole being-in-the-ocean thing, it was perfect. I got to wade into it, literally, with the deepest spot I found about waist deep, and just float as I saw parrot fish, angelfish, leapord fish (campoflauged beautifully!), dozens of unidentified smaller fish, of course a fair amount of (unfortunately smallish) coral, sea cucumbers, some gorgeous peacock-blue floral-looking things, and, my favorite, a deflated puffer fish. Karina didn't snorkel much there, since she prefers deep water, but I loved it, my bi-minutely shark scans (I read too much for my own good) notwithstanding.
Then, after a brief verbal scuffle with someone trying to charge us to stay at the beach for an hour, we set out for Mosquito Island where, despite the name, I saw not a single mosquito.
What I did see, though, was fish. THOUSANDS of them, all swimming about and above a magnificent reef off the side of a limestone cliff. This one was deeper, and we didn't go to the shore, but just flopped out of the boat into what felt like an aquarium. Here were all the fish I saw before (except the puffer), plus some groupers, a Dory-like fish, some truly rainbow colored fish, and more varieties of others than I could possibly name. It was glorious.
All-in-all, a wonderful first snorkelling experience and, for that matter, first ocean-swimming experience. But I discovered that I love everything about swimming in salt water except the salt water. Despite my best efforts, it would NOT stay out of my mask and mouthpiece, leading to a few moments where I felt like I was drowning--many of which happened, not coincidentally, when I was in the deep water, barred from standing up and a long swim from my boat. Also, Karina delighted in throwing bread at me, upon which hundreds of thousands of fish would then converge--which is, by the way, TERRIFYING to experience inches from your face.
So snorkelling was great. When we got back, we checked out and I checked into the local massage place, where I treated myself to a lovely oil massage (at triple the prices of the mainland, unfortunately, though still four times cheaper than America) while Karina sunbathed. Then it was a rather rushed buffet lunch and just catching our 1pm ferry back to Phuket.
In Phuket, things got...interesting. For some unknown reason, not nearly enough taxis had shown up to service people coming off the ferry and, as all the minibuses were full, too, we decided to foot it to Phuket town (a 15 minute walk, we were told), eat dinner there and spend the rest of our Thai money (I REALLY wanted another hour or two of Thai experience), and then catch a minibus to the airport. A long walk past illegal taxi- and motorbike-hawkers later, we stopped in at a 7-11 and stepped out to find it was raining. And, of course, by then all taxis had disappeared.
At least this time my travel curse waited till we were off the beach.
About an hour, three stops for directions with some-English-speaking locals and several kilometers of walking and watching minibus after minibus speed by without stopping later, we found a wonderful Thai family who spoke decent English and called a taxi for us, which arrived just as it was starting to get dark for the last-minute save.
So we ate in the Phuket airport, bought a few postcards, rearranged our stuff, sat around, got frustrated with line-cutters at immigration, jostled for service with determined, yet non-English or Thai-speaking Chinese tourists with meal vouchers at Dairy Queen, and finally boarded our (delayed) flight for Singapore.
And now we're here, using our free Internet but more than ready to seek out the fabled "snooze chairs" the airport is advertising every time our 15 minute sessions run out. After all, the 29th has been a very long, though wonderful, day.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Farther up, further in!
For those who don't know, the title of this post is a reference to The Last Battle, the last book in C.S. Lewis's "Chronicles of Narnia" series. (If you haven't already, GO READ IT!) In the book, it's an admonishment not to stay on the edges of something, but to plunge into its center, full-force.
I'm kind of in love with the expression, actually.
It also happens to be the best thing I can think of to say about my time in Taiwan right now. I've long since gotten over the initial culture shock and established a daily routine; even my language skills have evolved to the point where I can at least get around okay. The challenge now comes in not staying at the edges of my world here, but to drive forward to experience it at greater depths.
The depths I plumbed today: the non-compatibility of US-made DVDs with Taiwan-made DVD players (I think I was as disappointed as the kids that we couldn't watch Up...); a scenic route home complete with the discovery of a cute shopping area behind the main one at Central Park (amazing what you can find in search of Burger King!); the impossibly long task of checking receipt numbers for their bimonthly lottery (no wins, after sorting my fat pile of receipts by month, then first digit, and then checking to see if all 8, or even just 7, or 6, or 5, or 4, or 3 numbers matched. They didn't.).
So, not exactly the sort of profundity Lewis usually inspires. Pretty mundane, really. But the little mundane things pile up on each other and build into life itself. So I say, farther up and further in!
I'm kind of in love with the expression, actually.
It also happens to be the best thing I can think of to say about my time in Taiwan right now. I've long since gotten over the initial culture shock and established a daily routine; even my language skills have evolved to the point where I can at least get around okay. The challenge now comes in not staying at the edges of my world here, but to drive forward to experience it at greater depths.
The depths I plumbed today: the non-compatibility of US-made DVDs with Taiwan-made DVD players (I think I was as disappointed as the kids that we couldn't watch Up...); a scenic route home complete with the discovery of a cute shopping area behind the main one at Central Park (amazing what you can find in search of Burger King!); the impossibly long task of checking receipt numbers for their bimonthly lottery (no wins, after sorting my fat pile of receipts by month, then first digit, and then checking to see if all 8, or even just 7, or 6, or 5, or 4, or 3 numbers matched. They didn't.).
So, not exactly the sort of profundity Lewis usually inspires. Pretty mundane, really. But the little mundane things pile up on each other and build into life itself. So I say, farther up and further in!
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Technobabble and casserole
Considering that I spent the first portion of my day doing very little at school (the result of a combination of my lingering sickness and the fact that, due to said sickness, Maggie had adapted to teaching this particular lesson plan solo), I must look to my post-school day for a subject today.
Except, wait, I did very little in that, too.
Essentially, I got my computer to play DVDs. Which, as it turns out, is much easier said than done. My computer is a netbook, which means it has no internal CD/DVD reader. No big deal, right? I'll just go buy one.
Step 1: You go to Carrefour. You'd seen DVD drives for sale in a Carrefour in Taitung, and assumed their merchandise would be fairly uniform. Nope.
Step 2: Call Fonda. Always the last word in solving problems. :)
Step 3: Go with Fonda and Brittany to get Brittany's iPod fixed (the screen broke this morning at 7:30am--go ahead, ask me how I know precisely when it broke, despite originally being asleep, haha).
Step 4: Go with Fonda to the electronics store and buy an external CD/DVD drive.
Story over, right? Well...no.
Step 5: Take several hours out of the process, so as to put together an incredibly involved Powerpoint of sports from around the world to teach to the 6th graders tomorrow. Promise yourself you won't even try to watch a movie until you're done. Stick to your promise, until...
Step 6: You get hungry and decide to make something resembling a casserole out of leftover cream of corn soup, rice, chicken, onions, carrots, and cheese. It turns out pretty well (hooray!), and you realize that you now have a chunk of free time in which no one would blame you for not trying to type while eating.
Step 7: Attempt to install new DVD drive and discover that neither of the two separate software packages that came with the drive have anything to do with just playing music. Try fiddling with various players, only to discover that Windows 7 Starter doesn't have the right drivers installed to decode DVDs. Go online to discover that, while Vista and XP have plenty of (often free) downloads to fix similar problems, Windows 7 just recommends upgrading to a higher version of Windows 7. The problem with that, of course, is that you have a netbook; there's a reason you only run Starter, and it's that there's not enough space for a crap-ton of programming!
Step 8: Play it safe and save current settings in case of a reboot.
Step 9: Begin downloading random crap from the Internet that says it will fix your problem. Some of it doesn't. Most of it doesn't. But then...
Step 10: One program works. You are happy and watch a movie.
Oh, and at some point, you finished the Powerpoint and sent it to your co-teacher and host mom. So it was a happy ending, with movies and casserole for all.
The end.
Except, wait, I did very little in that, too.
Essentially, I got my computer to play DVDs. Which, as it turns out, is much easier said than done. My computer is a netbook, which means it has no internal CD/DVD reader. No big deal, right? I'll just go buy one.
Step 1: You go to Carrefour. You'd seen DVD drives for sale in a Carrefour in Taitung, and assumed their merchandise would be fairly uniform. Nope.
Step 2: Call Fonda. Always the last word in solving problems. :)
Step 3: Go with Fonda and Brittany to get Brittany's iPod fixed (the screen broke this morning at 7:30am--go ahead, ask me how I know precisely when it broke, despite originally being asleep, haha).
Step 4: Go with Fonda to the electronics store and buy an external CD/DVD drive.
Story over, right? Well...no.
Step 5: Take several hours out of the process, so as to put together an incredibly involved Powerpoint of sports from around the world to teach to the 6th graders tomorrow. Promise yourself you won't even try to watch a movie until you're done. Stick to your promise, until...
Step 6: You get hungry and decide to make something resembling a casserole out of leftover cream of corn soup, rice, chicken, onions, carrots, and cheese. It turns out pretty well (hooray!), and you realize that you now have a chunk of free time in which no one would blame you for not trying to type while eating.
Step 7: Attempt to install new DVD drive and discover that neither of the two separate software packages that came with the drive have anything to do with just playing music. Try fiddling with various players, only to discover that Windows 7 Starter doesn't have the right drivers installed to decode DVDs. Go online to discover that, while Vista and XP have plenty of (often free) downloads to fix similar problems, Windows 7 just recommends upgrading to a higher version of Windows 7. The problem with that, of course, is that you have a netbook; there's a reason you only run Starter, and it's that there's not enough space for a crap-ton of programming!
Step 8: Play it safe and save current settings in case of a reboot.
Step 9: Begin downloading random crap from the Internet that says it will fix your problem. Some of it doesn't. Most of it doesn't. But then...
Step 10: One program works. You are happy and watch a movie.
Oh, and at some point, you finished the Powerpoint and sent it to your co-teacher and host mom. So it was a happy ending, with movies and casserole for all.
The end.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Strollin'
When I bought my scooter in September, it opened the world of Kaohsiung to me--and simultaneously shut it out. Whenever people here talk about scooters, one of the first things out of their mouths is "It's so convenient!"--and that's true. A little too true, really: scooters make it incredibly easy to go from point A to point B, without seeing any of the points in between.
I was reminded of this today, as I traversed Kaohsiung, scooter-less once more. My trip to school was longer and more complicated, true, but as I went I got to look around and see my fellow commuters, both Taiwanese and (gasp!) foreign, and remember that I lived in a community beyond that of annoying people who pull out in front of you without bothering to notice that you're even there. (Fun side note about scooters: YOU CAN SEE when people don't look.)
My trip back was even better. My lovely co-teacher, Patty, drove me to the department store near Central Park where the Western supermarket Jason's is located (Being in Jason's felt like HEAVEN, surrounded by American goodies and English signs!), and talking with her and being able to look around on the drive was great. I didn't find what I was looking for at Jason's (Graham crackers and instant vanilla pudding = fail, though they had six or seven varieties of Jell-O...), but I wasn't able to say no to a package of double fudge soft baked Pepperidge Farm cookies. Mmm...I'll be visiting again.
But quite apart from the food, going through the Christmas-bedecked department store down to the busy grocery store in the basement, and then walking the several blocks back to the MRT to go home, was great. It was absolutely glorious out, not too cold or too hot, and I enjoyed my stroll so much that, after I got home and had dinner, I went out again and went on a good 45 minute walk to the bank and to a local baking store (where, incidentally, I found some decent substitutes for Graham crackers and instant vanilla pudding in Digesta biscuits and custard powder).
It was on this walk, actually, that I realized that I rarely walk around my neighborhood any more. I have my established routes, to and from places I like, and that's about it.
But why? Again, I blame the scooter. Well, that, and my flat feet and months-long failure to remember to wear good shoes.
Hopefully, I'll have my scooter restored to me soon. But when I do, I hope to remember that Kaohsiung is larger than the few main streets I routinely traverse--and that the smaller streets are well worth being opened up with a quick stroll.
I was reminded of this today, as I traversed Kaohsiung, scooter-less once more. My trip to school was longer and more complicated, true, but as I went I got to look around and see my fellow commuters, both Taiwanese and (gasp!) foreign, and remember that I lived in a community beyond that of annoying people who pull out in front of you without bothering to notice that you're even there. (Fun side note about scooters: YOU CAN SEE when people don't look.)
My trip back was even better. My lovely co-teacher, Patty, drove me to the department store near Central Park where the Western supermarket Jason's is located (Being in Jason's felt like HEAVEN, surrounded by American goodies and English signs!), and talking with her and being able to look around on the drive was great. I didn't find what I was looking for at Jason's (Graham crackers and instant vanilla pudding = fail, though they had six or seven varieties of Jell-O...), but I wasn't able to say no to a package of double fudge soft baked Pepperidge Farm cookies. Mmm...I'll be visiting again.
But quite apart from the food, going through the Christmas-bedecked department store down to the busy grocery store in the basement, and then walking the several blocks back to the MRT to go home, was great. It was absolutely glorious out, not too cold or too hot, and I enjoyed my stroll so much that, after I got home and had dinner, I went out again and went on a good 45 minute walk to the bank and to a local baking store (where, incidentally, I found some decent substitutes for Graham crackers and instant vanilla pudding in Digesta biscuits and custard powder).
It was on this walk, actually, that I realized that I rarely walk around my neighborhood any more. I have my established routes, to and from places I like, and that's about it.
But why? Again, I blame the scooter. Well, that, and my flat feet and months-long failure to remember to wear good shoes.
Hopefully, I'll have my scooter restored to me soon. But when I do, I hope to remember that Kaohsiung is larger than the few main streets I routinely traverse--and that the smaller streets are well worth being opened up with a quick stroll.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Thanksgiving in Kaohsiung
Today wasn't Thanksgiving. It couldn't have been. I got up early, put on a t-shirt, skirt and sandals, bought an iced coffee, went to an RT competition (in which both of my schools competed), came home, took a nap, went to school again--oh, and then taught Thanksgiving, so I guess it must have been--but then I came home, went searching for turkey, and ended up eating steak at a Canadian restaurant.
And this is Thanksgiving? Really? You're serious? Huh. I didn't even consume any turkey.
I've already detailed many of my Thanksgiving teaching tactics; what I didn't mention is that, on Monday, after I finished my spiel about how the most important traditions of Thanksgiving are to eat a feast, spend time with family, and say what you are thankful for (spot the vocab words!), a student asked, through my co-teacher, "But, Teacher Bekah, why aren't YOU going home for Thanksgiving?"
...
It's times like these that I really wish someone had invented a teleportation device, already!
But they haven't and so my Thanksgiving was spent here, cheering on my students and taking a prohibited (and, as a result of its secrecy, terrible quality-ed) video of them, then describing what stuffing was to a class full of 6th graders, whose wrinkled faces at the idea of it cooking inside the turkey were priceless, not least of which because they closely mirrored my own face whenever I come into close contact with stinky tofu or pig intestines.
On my way into school today, I saw my commute friend Rob (he's an English teacher from New York who works across the street from my school; we met en route one day and we're perfecting the art of 40 second stoplight conversations), who was driving another English teacher, Debbie, and they informed me that they were spending Thanksgiving with a friend who had had the foresight to special order a turkey and plan a Thanksgiving dinner. They also told me that last year they had eaten turkey at a local American restaurant. They gave me the name, but I was on a scooter at a stop light--not exactly the time to write it down.
The search was on. A quick Google search for Western/American restaurants in Kaohsiung provided a decently long list--I'm going to need to keep exploring, I think--but only one which looked remotely like the name I thought they told me. I remembered that it was a pub & grill type place, and that it sounded like a last name.
My hypothesis? Foster Hewitt's.
I looked up directions, grabbed Analicia, who also didn't have dinner plans, and set off down one of Kaohsiung's busiest roads, down which apparently Foster Hewitt's lay. When we got there, one thing immediately struck me: a Canadian flag. Yep, it was Western all right, but decidedly Canadian; posters, hockey jerseys and other memorabilia from Ontario crowded the walls.
It was still a very nice place, but not exactly somewhere that would be serving turkey on American Thanksgiving.
Reconciled, I ordered a steak and fresh lime soda. Nothing even remotely related to Thanksgiving food, but at least it was high-quality Western food; in a lot of ways, it beat my back-up plan of a Subway turkey sandwich. And the bartender was Western, and it was oddly comforting to be able to be served by a native speaker of English, as weird as that sounds. At least a little something of home in a native accent.
My mom complained last week when I described how great the Thanksgiving dinner in Taipei was rather than talk about how much I miss her cooking. Well, last week wasn't Thanksgiving. Today was. And I do miss her cooking--hers, and Aunt Linda's, and Uncle Pat and Aunt Christy's, and Karen's, and Jillian's, and Diana's, and Rosa's, and Joshua's, and Heather's, and everyone else in my family who cooks's. I wish I were home, eating moist turkey and flavorful party potatoes and oddly delicious stuffing and the many, many pies. I wish I were hanging out with my family and watching the parade right now, feeling guilty about not being able to do more to help.
Because, as I told my kids, that's what Thanksgiving is about: eating a feast and spending time with family.
But there was a third thing: being thankful. And I am, of course, thankful first and foremost for my family. But I'm also thankful that I'm here. I love all my wonderful students, co-teachers, host family, fellow ETAs, and other friends here, and I am so thankful they're in my life, and that I have the opportunity to be in theirs. I'm thankful that I have been blessed with a Fulbright grant to Taiwan, which is itself the chance of a lifetime. I'm thankful that I even have this dilemma, that I have to want to be in two places at once, that I have two potential places to spend the holiday.
Because today was Thanksgiving, no matter how I spent it. And turkey, as it turns out, is optional.
And this is Thanksgiving? Really? You're serious? Huh. I didn't even consume any turkey.
I've already detailed many of my Thanksgiving teaching tactics; what I didn't mention is that, on Monday, after I finished my spiel about how the most important traditions of Thanksgiving are to eat a feast, spend time with family, and say what you are thankful for (spot the vocab words!), a student asked, through my co-teacher, "But, Teacher Bekah, why aren't YOU going home for Thanksgiving?"
...
It's times like these that I really wish someone had invented a teleportation device, already!
But they haven't and so my Thanksgiving was spent here, cheering on my students and taking a prohibited (and, as a result of its secrecy, terrible quality-ed) video of them, then describing what stuffing was to a class full of 6th graders, whose wrinkled faces at the idea of it cooking inside the turkey were priceless, not least of which because they closely mirrored my own face whenever I come into close contact with stinky tofu or pig intestines.
On my way into school today, I saw my commute friend Rob (he's an English teacher from New York who works across the street from my school; we met en route one day and we're perfecting the art of 40 second stoplight conversations), who was driving another English teacher, Debbie, and they informed me that they were spending Thanksgiving with a friend who had had the foresight to special order a turkey and plan a Thanksgiving dinner. They also told me that last year they had eaten turkey at a local American restaurant. They gave me the name, but I was on a scooter at a stop light--not exactly the time to write it down.
The search was on. A quick Google search for Western/American restaurants in Kaohsiung provided a decently long list--I'm going to need to keep exploring, I think--but only one which looked remotely like the name I thought they told me. I remembered that it was a pub & grill type place, and that it sounded like a last name.
My hypothesis? Foster Hewitt's.
I looked up directions, grabbed Analicia, who also didn't have dinner plans, and set off down one of Kaohsiung's busiest roads, down which apparently Foster Hewitt's lay. When we got there, one thing immediately struck me: a Canadian flag. Yep, it was Western all right, but decidedly Canadian; posters, hockey jerseys and other memorabilia from Ontario crowded the walls.
It was still a very nice place, but not exactly somewhere that would be serving turkey on American Thanksgiving.
Reconciled, I ordered a steak and fresh lime soda. Nothing even remotely related to Thanksgiving food, but at least it was high-quality Western food; in a lot of ways, it beat my back-up plan of a Subway turkey sandwich. And the bartender was Western, and it was oddly comforting to be able to be served by a native speaker of English, as weird as that sounds. At least a little something of home in a native accent.
 |
| Ah, Thanksgiving dinner. |
My mom complained last week when I described how great the Thanksgiving dinner in Taipei was rather than talk about how much I miss her cooking. Well, last week wasn't Thanksgiving. Today was. And I do miss her cooking--hers, and Aunt Linda's, and Uncle Pat and Aunt Christy's, and Karen's, and Jillian's, and Diana's, and Rosa's, and Joshua's, and Heather's, and everyone else in my family who cooks's. I wish I were home, eating moist turkey and flavorful party potatoes and oddly delicious stuffing and the many, many pies. I wish I were hanging out with my family and watching the parade right now, feeling guilty about not being able to do more to help.
Because, as I told my kids, that's what Thanksgiving is about: eating a feast and spending time with family.
But there was a third thing: being thankful. And I am, of course, thankful first and foremost for my family. But I'm also thankful that I'm here. I love all my wonderful students, co-teachers, host family, fellow ETAs, and other friends here, and I am so thankful they're in my life, and that I have the opportunity to be in theirs. I'm thankful that I have been blessed with a Fulbright grant to Taiwan, which is itself the chance of a lifetime. I'm thankful that I even have this dilemma, that I have to want to be in two places at once, that I have two potential places to spend the holiday.
Because today was Thanksgiving, no matter how I spent it. And turkey, as it turns out, is optional.
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