10. My students, my co-teachers, my colleagues, my friends...
This one is obviously actually #1, but it's far too serious to put as my ending note. So, this is actually the thing I will miss the absolute most about Taiwan...but I don't have the heart to put it there. I love my students; I love my co-teachers; I love my colleagues; I love my friends here, and I don't want to think about the fact that I'm leaving then soon. *ahem* Movingon.
9. Standing out in every crowd
It gets annoying at times, but it's still kind of cool to be The Foreigner, worthy of stares and smiles and awe. And I'm not gonna lie, it's nice getting "你很漂亮啊" all the time from strangers. I won't quite know how to deal with blending in again...
8. The ability to pop up to Taipei or Taitung on a whim, or to fly to Thailand in just 6 hours or so
I've mentioned this before, but I have absolutely LOVED the ability to travel that this year has given me, coupled with an absolutely fantastic array of locations at my feet.
7. Living amongst the nicest people on the planet
I genuinely believe this to be true. I have NEVER met more kindhearted people than the Taiwanese locals, especially Kaohsiung locals, are. It's partly Southern hospitality (the same the world over), but mostly just an ingrained wonderful friendliness all over the island of Taiwan. They are simply wonderful.
6. Every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon off work
This was just a lovely quirk of my schedule all year: no class after noon three days a week. Never gonna get THAT again!
5. Playing the foreigner card
Not being able to communicate definitely has its upside. This is it: the foreigner card. "I don't understand!" Annnnnd you can now do anything you want.
4. Drinking ALL THE TEA
I didn't even drink tea before I came to Taiwan. But I will miss all the fabulous varieties of tea I've grown to love this year, and will no doubt try to replicate them on my own: grapefruit green tea, Oolong milk tea, Earl Grey milk tea (at least this one I can still get at home), yogurt green tea, mango green tea, the list goes on...and I will always remember being the sole one still ordering it iced when the temperature dropped to a "frigid" 60F or so.
3. Beautiful sunshiney days on my scooter
When the sun is out, my scooter is perfect. Wind in my hair, zipping along, getting tanned (avoiding the slowpokes...); in essence, perfection.
2. Fresh fruit, everywhere, all the time
Taiwan's fruit is the best thing ever. EVER. And it's cheap. I will forever miss being able to go down to the fruit stand on a whim and buy pineapples, mangoes, and watermelon and for less than 3USD.
1. Driving like a maniac with no repercussions
'Nuff said. Here's hoping I readjust before I get buried in tickets at home...
Showing posts with label fruit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fruit. Show all posts
Friday, June 29, 2012
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Small Talk
Small talk. Used daily by everyone, yet spoken of with sneering cynicism: the weather? The local sports team? Who cares! Well, as it turns out, everyone--or, at least, they would if they knew what life without it would be like.
One of the little things you don't think about missing when you move to another country is the ability to have a conversation with the person ringing up your groceries. Yet, as it happens, once you're actually in another country, it's one of the first things you notice, and one of the single largest drivers for you to work harder to learn whatever language it is that the grocery checkers (and, hopefully, everyone else) happen to speak.
It really is amazing, though. After nine and a half months here in Taiwan, being able to have those tiny, meaningless conversations with the random people you see every day is one of the single biggest things I miss. Of course, I learned long ago the questions and answers needed for a basic check-out: numbers, how much, change, rewards card, bagging, etc. Those are just logistics, though; mechanical and automated, they aren't real conversations at all. Those are much harder; those are what I aim for with every Chinese class I attend (we don't follow a book, so it's basically Tiffiany and I asking our teacher to cover whatever topics we want to know). Listening and understanding is one thing--following what the other person is saying is usually the easy part. It's being able to respond that's hard, and that I'm still very intently working on.
All this to say, it's a minor celebration for me whenever I actually can have a little conversation with the people I interact with during the day. Whether they're a cab driver or a mom on a scooter asking me what grade I teach (happened a few weeks ago at Qingshan), it's always so exciting for me if I can talk with them--about anything. And today? I had two conversations.
My first one was at the fruit stand. My roommates and I usually frequent a certain fruit stand down the street: their prices are good, and it's pretty close, both to our apartment, and to a grocery store and the major road that leads to the gym. All factors highly in its favor. Not in its favor, however, is the man who works there. Brittany has dubbed him "Nasty Mouth" because, his age notwithstanding (he's probably in his 30s), he's missing countless teeth, with those remaining emaciated red stubs. Beyond this, he's notoriously hard to talk to (hard to understand him because of his lack of teeth, if nothing else), and yet he insists on holding long conversations with us when we're there, a fact which is made more difficult by his apparent, and very awkward, obsession with us. I've actually started avoiding the stand because I don't like interacting with him.
Today, however, I was thinking with my wallet, so I stopped on over. And, once there, I discovered a wonderful thing: he wasn't working! In his place was a lovely older Taiwanese woman (Rachel later told me she's his mother), with whom I had a nice, if short, conversation about the watermelons I was considering getting--whether they were good; whether they were red or yellow; whether red or yellow watermelons tasted better. It was such a small thing, yet it was so wonderful--besides restoring my estimation of the fruit stand (on Friday afternoons, anyway, since apparently that's when she works), it was a little touch of human contact in Chinese. And I was able to participate.
The second one was at 7-11 tonight. I absolutely love one of the ladies who works there, a middle aged woman who is always so friendly and helpful and who--and this is important--always makes an effort to speak to me, but in a slow, measured way such that I can understand her. Tonight, the topic of discussion was what I was doing here, studying or working. I told her I was an English teacher, and then she asked where. I told her, and she identified the district and we said goodbye. Such a small moment; such small talk.
But it was small talk. In Chinese. And I could participate. Life is good.
One of the little things you don't think about missing when you move to another country is the ability to have a conversation with the person ringing up your groceries. Yet, as it happens, once you're actually in another country, it's one of the first things you notice, and one of the single largest drivers for you to work harder to learn whatever language it is that the grocery checkers (and, hopefully, everyone else) happen to speak.
It really is amazing, though. After nine and a half months here in Taiwan, being able to have those tiny, meaningless conversations with the random people you see every day is one of the single biggest things I miss. Of course, I learned long ago the questions and answers needed for a basic check-out: numbers, how much, change, rewards card, bagging, etc. Those are just logistics, though; mechanical and automated, they aren't real conversations at all. Those are much harder; those are what I aim for with every Chinese class I attend (we don't follow a book, so it's basically Tiffiany and I asking our teacher to cover whatever topics we want to know). Listening and understanding is one thing--following what the other person is saying is usually the easy part. It's being able to respond that's hard, and that I'm still very intently working on.
All this to say, it's a minor celebration for me whenever I actually can have a little conversation with the people I interact with during the day. Whether they're a cab driver or a mom on a scooter asking me what grade I teach (happened a few weeks ago at Qingshan), it's always so exciting for me if I can talk with them--about anything. And today? I had two conversations.
My first one was at the fruit stand. My roommates and I usually frequent a certain fruit stand down the street: their prices are good, and it's pretty close, both to our apartment, and to a grocery store and the major road that leads to the gym. All factors highly in its favor. Not in its favor, however, is the man who works there. Brittany has dubbed him "Nasty Mouth" because, his age notwithstanding (he's probably in his 30s), he's missing countless teeth, with those remaining emaciated red stubs. Beyond this, he's notoriously hard to talk to (hard to understand him because of his lack of teeth, if nothing else), and yet he insists on holding long conversations with us when we're there, a fact which is made more difficult by his apparent, and very awkward, obsession with us. I've actually started avoiding the stand because I don't like interacting with him.
Today, however, I was thinking with my wallet, so I stopped on over. And, once there, I discovered a wonderful thing: he wasn't working! In his place was a lovely older Taiwanese woman (Rachel later told me she's his mother), with whom I had a nice, if short, conversation about the watermelons I was considering getting--whether they were good; whether they were red or yellow; whether red or yellow watermelons tasted better. It was such a small thing, yet it was so wonderful--besides restoring my estimation of the fruit stand (on Friday afternoons, anyway, since apparently that's when she works), it was a little touch of human contact in Chinese. And I was able to participate.
The second one was at 7-11 tonight. I absolutely love one of the ladies who works there, a middle aged woman who is always so friendly and helpful and who--and this is important--always makes an effort to speak to me, but in a slow, measured way such that I can understand her. Tonight, the topic of discussion was what I was doing here, studying or working. I told her I was an English teacher, and then she asked where. I told her, and she identified the district and we said goodbye. Such a small moment; such small talk.
But it was small talk. In Chinese. And I could participate. Life is good.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Rediscovering Kaohsiung
When I told Danny and Dan to come to Kaohsiung on Monday instead of Saturday (due to pending--and ultimately nullified--inclement weather), I was thinking that I would get out of class at noon, and then have the rest of the afternoon to show them Kaohsiung. Which just shows how clearly I was thinking at that point in time: I don't get out of class on Mondays until 3:00.
So I taught all day ("ng" and "nk," which the kids loved to imitate and to laugh at my demonstrations), then headed straight home, picked up Dan and Danny, and headed off to Cijin Island. It was surprisingly un-busy--the joys of going on a weeknight, rather than a weekend--and we sampled fruit juices, walked around the beach, and forced Danny to try some squid. (I also tried the roadside squid for the first time--another food to check off my list of things-to-try-in-Taiwan.) About halfway through our walk, right as the sun was setting, my camera battery died.
Which was a real shame. In addition to the sunset, we saw a horse. Just, you know, chilling by the side of the trail. It took us a while to figure out if it was a runaway or not, but eventually we figured out it was staked down by the path.
Which leads me to the question who takes a horse to Cijin, stakes it to the side of the path, and walks off? For that matter, who in the thriving urban setting of Kaohsiung owns a horse? And where?
Shortly thereafter, we headed back for the Cultural Center and grabbed a bite at Chialing's, which was, as always, delicious. Then it was back to the apartment to play poker and High 2, which Dan introduced to us.
And now I'm blogging, which, as you may be able to tell, I have no desire to be doing. But I'll be up again tomorrow, ready to go again with my packed schedule: school, then rediscovering Kaohsiung with friends!
So I taught all day ("ng" and "nk," which the kids loved to imitate and to laugh at my demonstrations), then headed straight home, picked up Dan and Danny, and headed off to Cijin Island. It was surprisingly un-busy--the joys of going on a weeknight, rather than a weekend--and we sampled fruit juices, walked around the beach, and forced Danny to try some squid. (I also tried the roadside squid for the first time--another food to check off my list of things-to-try-in-Taiwan.) About halfway through our walk, right as the sun was setting, my camera battery died.
Which was a real shame. In addition to the sunset, we saw a horse. Just, you know, chilling by the side of the trail. It took us a while to figure out if it was a runaway or not, but eventually we figured out it was staked down by the path.
Which leads me to the question who takes a horse to Cijin, stakes it to the side of the path, and walks off? For that matter, who in the thriving urban setting of Kaohsiung owns a horse? And where?
Shortly thereafter, we headed back for the Cultural Center and grabbed a bite at Chialing's, which was, as always, delicious. Then it was back to the apartment to play poker and High 2, which Dan introduced to us.
And now I'm blogging, which, as you may be able to tell, I have no desire to be doing. But I'll be up again tomorrow, ready to go again with my packed schedule: school, then rediscovering Kaohsiung with friends!
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Apartment A
Today has been pretty chill, with the focus being on settling in and getting necessary things for our apartments. The irony, and the difficulty, of that is that we have absolutely no guarantee that we will continue to live where we live now--as I mentioned before, only 7 of the 12 people currently living in our beautiful apartment complex will stay there for the rest of the year, while the other 5 will have to move at the end of the month to outlying areas about an hour from here.
Nonetheless, I feel like now is a good time to take a moment to talk about our living situation. It's pretty amazing. We're in a BEAUTIFUL 12-story brick building near the Cultural Center in Kaohsiung; our building forms a "U" around a gorgeous courtyard complete with polished granite chess-playing tables, a gazebo, and a koi pond. I'm living with Rachel, Brittany, and Karina, and our apartment, apartment "A," as designated by the Fulbright people, is on the third floor. And, in addition to a balcony off the living room, each of the four bedrooms has at least a window facing into the courtyard; one of the two suites, which are larger and have private bathrooms, also has its own balcony. Here's the view from the living room balcony:
I'm in one of the smaller rooms, with cheaper rent--$5,050 TWD, if I remember correctly, so about $168 USD. Of course, the suites are only about $210 USD, so still insanely cheap, but I wasn't thinking that clearly when we picked, thanks to jet lag. But hey, with the saved money, I can travel more! IF I get to stay here, that is. Anyway, here's my current room--note the still-packed suitcases by the bed; I unpacked my carry-on, but I'm not letting myself get too settled yet.
Just off-camera to the right is a wardrobe; behind the desk to the left is a bedside table. If we DO stay, I have some rearranging to do--the way it is now makes the room look and feel smaller than it is. Also if we get to stay, I'm getting new curtains.
But therein lies the problem: we don't know if we're staying.
Today we went shopping, first at Ikea and then at Carrefour, which is basically the Taiwanese version of Fred Meyer, and we had no idea what we should or should not buy. Sure, in our current apartment my room needs more storage, but what if I have to move to one with no room for a chest of drawers? Sure, I have a twin-sized bed now, but what if I move to a place where I have a queen? On the flip side, sure apartment A has a fully stocked kitchen, but what if I have to move to a place with nothing whatsoever? And that's actually a very real possibility: the apartments we're in now have been used by Fulbright for a number of years now, and so have a lot of stuff in them that has been left behind by former grantees. Those who move, however, are going to new apartments--Fulbright hasn't even picked them out yet. Chances are they'll have nothing.
So, long story short, I didn't buy much today. An alarm clock, a bedside lamp, a pillow, under-bed storage (which, incidentally, doesn't fit under my bed. But if I move?), a bath mat. Breakfast food. All stuff that could easily move with me, if it comes to that.
A highlight of the day was definitely the fruit section of Carrefour--GIANT mangoes, dragonfruit, lychee, melons, pineapple, peaches, nectarines, kiwis, apples (oddly the most expensive thing there--ah, tropical fruit being local), and a bunch of fruit I didn't recognize. Also amazing was that, after I loaded my cart with fruit, juice, bottled water, Laughing Cow cheese, a coffee drink, chips, hand soap, and dehumidifying stuff, plus shared items with my apartment mates like laundry detergent, air freshener, eggs, bread, and watermelon, my bill came to about $23 USD. Wonderful.
I'm looking forward to formally learning more Chinese, and I'm learning, bit by bit, even today--trying to figure out what kind of coffee the cafe next to our apartment building has, trying to understand the 7-11 clerk from the other side of the apartment building tell me how much my yogurt cost, ordering "ee-guh kuhluh" (one Coke) for lunch, learning from Rachel that "chi bao le" means "I'm full." (Would have been useful to know that one in China!) "Xie xie" is no longer the only useful thing I can say.
Right now, though, "Wo esile"--I'm hungry. Down to the courtyard for pizza.
Nonetheless, I feel like now is a good time to take a moment to talk about our living situation. It's pretty amazing. We're in a BEAUTIFUL 12-story brick building near the Cultural Center in Kaohsiung; our building forms a "U" around a gorgeous courtyard complete with polished granite chess-playing tables, a gazebo, and a koi pond. I'm living with Rachel, Brittany, and Karina, and our apartment, apartment "A," as designated by the Fulbright people, is on the third floor. And, in addition to a balcony off the living room, each of the four bedrooms has at least a window facing into the courtyard; one of the two suites, which are larger and have private bathrooms, also has its own balcony. Here's the view from the living room balcony:
I'm in one of the smaller rooms, with cheaper rent--$5,050 TWD, if I remember correctly, so about $168 USD. Of course, the suites are only about $210 USD, so still insanely cheap, but I wasn't thinking that clearly when we picked, thanks to jet lag. But hey, with the saved money, I can travel more! IF I get to stay here, that is. Anyway, here's my current room--note the still-packed suitcases by the bed; I unpacked my carry-on, but I'm not letting myself get too settled yet.
Just off-camera to the right is a wardrobe; behind the desk to the left is a bedside table. If we DO stay, I have some rearranging to do--the way it is now makes the room look and feel smaller than it is. Also if we get to stay, I'm getting new curtains.
But therein lies the problem: we don't know if we're staying.
Today we went shopping, first at Ikea and then at Carrefour, which is basically the Taiwanese version of Fred Meyer, and we had no idea what we should or should not buy. Sure, in our current apartment my room needs more storage, but what if I have to move to one with no room for a chest of drawers? Sure, I have a twin-sized bed now, but what if I move to a place where I have a queen? On the flip side, sure apartment A has a fully stocked kitchen, but what if I have to move to a place with nothing whatsoever? And that's actually a very real possibility: the apartments we're in now have been used by Fulbright for a number of years now, and so have a lot of stuff in them that has been left behind by former grantees. Those who move, however, are going to new apartments--Fulbright hasn't even picked them out yet. Chances are they'll have nothing.
So, long story short, I didn't buy much today. An alarm clock, a bedside lamp, a pillow, under-bed storage (which, incidentally, doesn't fit under my bed. But if I move?), a bath mat. Breakfast food. All stuff that could easily move with me, if it comes to that.
A highlight of the day was definitely the fruit section of Carrefour--GIANT mangoes, dragonfruit, lychee, melons, pineapple, peaches, nectarines, kiwis, apples (oddly the most expensive thing there--ah, tropical fruit being local), and a bunch of fruit I didn't recognize. Also amazing was that, after I loaded my cart with fruit, juice, bottled water, Laughing Cow cheese, a coffee drink, chips, hand soap, and dehumidifying stuff, plus shared items with my apartment mates like laundry detergent, air freshener, eggs, bread, and watermelon, my bill came to about $23 USD. Wonderful.
I'm looking forward to formally learning more Chinese, and I'm learning, bit by bit, even today--trying to figure out what kind of coffee the cafe next to our apartment building has, trying to understand the 7-11 clerk from the other side of the apartment building tell me how much my yogurt cost, ordering "ee-guh kuhluh" (one Coke) for lunch, learning from Rachel that "chi bao le" means "I'm full." (Would have been useful to know that one in China!) "Xie xie" is no longer the only useful thing I can say.
Right now, though, "Wo esile"--I'm hungry. Down to the courtyard for pizza.
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