Top 10 Things I Won't Miss About Taiwan

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.

颱風來

颱風來...Typhoon's coming. School and all outdoor activities are preemptively canceled for tomorrow, simultaneously robbing me of my last day at Hanmin; Fulbright's planned zongzi-making party (also at Hanmin, but with all the ETAs invited); dinner with Alison, Maggie, Fiona and Patty; and Qingshan's 6th grade graduation (which is being rescheduled, but which now seems to conflict with our dragon boat races, should they actually take place).

The unfortunate part is that I can't even get upset at the system: they're not overreacting. We're about to be hit by Typhoon Talim, which is coming up along the West Coast; this, I've been told repeatedly, is NOT GOOD. Typhoons usually hit Taiwan's more exposed East Coast, thus running into the mid-country mountain range and slowing down before passing over to the much more densely populated West Coast; when they hit on The Side with the Cities, so I'm told, is when problems happen.

Oh, and we're actually getting off easy with Talim: just a few days ago, Taiwan looked like it was going to be hit on both sides, by Talim and Guchol. Thankfully (for us, at least), Guchol swirled off towards Japan, where it is now assailing Analicia's mom in the worst-timed way possible (she's flying from the States to Taipei with a stop in Japan, meaning she will very likely be impacted by both typhoons on her journey).

To the left: Talim. To the right: Guchol. In the middle: Taiwan.

So, we're all pretty much under house arrest for tomorrow. Well, I had been lamenting my lack of experiencing a typhoon while I was here...after all, as Margaret told me, typhoons and earthquakes are Taiwan's natural products! Had to experience both, or I hadn't really lived here.

In other typhoon news, a friend request and follow-up message from one of my favorite 5th graders finally broke my resolve and reminded me that it was about time I made good on my promise to my students that they could be my Facebook friends after I was no longer their teacher. Within minutes of my approving my many pending requests, the following photo showed up on my timeline:

Note the eyes that say "why am I doing this?" and the feet that say "I did karate for six years!"

...and promptly received a deluge of "like"s from friends back home. Further exploration of the album in which I had been tagged (thankfully, just in this one photo) revealed that my fears about presenting awards at graduation had been fully justified, as there now exist multiple pictures of my back, bowing to the students. Oh joy.

And here, buried at the bottom of my post because, again, I'm in denial, today was my REAL last day teaching at Hanmin. I came in for one period in the afternoon, during which Alison and I taught a group of 1st-5th graders from a school in the outer county areas of Kaohsiung our 3rd-4th grade Morning English lesson. And that part was really fun--the kids were enthusiastic and our goal was mostly just to give out free stuff. Then Alison and I went out for a coffee, and that was really fun, too!

Then the typhoon began blowing in. And I realized I should probably act as if it was my last day at Hanmin. And I cleared out my locker, and my desk, and left a note for next year's ETA. And now my desk looks quite desolate and depressing...

Yesterday..

Today. :(

...and I now have a bone to pick with a typhoon. 

Sixth Grade Surprises

I parked my scooter under the dripping tin cover, changed out of my flip flops and into the more teaching-appropriate flats I'd brought, and scurried across the open parking lot to the next bit of cover beneath the eaves of the faculty lunch room. I wasn't wearing my watch--no need for it to get wet--but I knew I probably had just a few minutes before the bell rang. When I arrived at the third floor English classroom at last, I was a little perplexed to hear noises coming from inside--it was nap time, after all!

I opened the door--and instantly the indeterminate voices solidified into a girl's squeal: "Noooo!!!!" One of my fifth graders came running across the classroom, gesticulating wildly, speaking quickly in Chinese with the occasional burst of English, and generally making me to realize I should not be there. Not yet, anyway. I clapped my hand over my eyes and stayed put, like she'd told me to.

 She was distraught, then, when she finally gave me leave to walk to my desk--only to discover Patty standing there with my surprise clearly visible in her hands, and which she proceeded to explain to me: the girls were filling a jar with 3,000 tiny stars for me, so I could have 3 wishes (one per thousand). I'm not sure if it's meant to be a belated birthday gift or early going-away present, but either way, it was absolutely supposed to be a secret, and it no longer is. Whoops.

The girls were fifth graders, but that experience was a fittingly strange beginning to my last day as a 6th grade teacher. Why, you ask? Precisely because they were fifth graders. See, on my last day as a sixth grade teacher, I saw remarkably few sixth graders--just one class of them, actually, and that the infamous class whose students I've mentioned on here before. After the first class, all the sixth graders were called away to a jump rope competition that Patty hadn't known about, so I actually spent most of the day sitting and talking with Patty, and helping grade worksheets.

The class I did have was pretty great, though. Handed out my cards and candy; Patty did the same, together the residual papers that always seem to accumulate over the course of the year--and then we taught them "Call Me Maybe" from this Youtube video:

So yeah, maybe it's a good thing we only taught the one class--that song is impossibly catchy, and will be stuck in my head plenty with just the one viewing...

And, of course, we did the photo-op thing. Except for the part where the boys were their typical selves when trying to get a picture with the girls...

Beginning to get frustrated...

Can you find the boys who are hiding?

Then I drove home in the rain, and that was that! No more sixth graders...except for the part where I'm still going to their graduations. So it's not really goodbye--not yet.

Goodbyes, Tea, Rain, and a Challenge!

Well, from here on out it's pretty much all goodbyes. Just reading over my last week of postings is depressing, and from here on out it's a downward slope. So, to counterbalance what could otherwise be a tidal wave of sadness, I've decided to split today's post (and possibly future posts, pending time and motivation) into two sections: the deep, dark and sad, and the light, bubbly and happy. And yes, they will be in that order, because who wants to end on a frown?

Today was my last day with my 6th graders at Hanmin. Ever. And it wasn't even supposed to be! See, the 6th graders graduate a week before everyone else finishes school, so they took their finals last week, and have graduation this Friday. Which, I thought, would work fine: I'd have one final class period with all of them; get a chance to say goodbye, take pictures, and hand out the little end-of-the-year gifts I had for them. And, today, that's precisely what I did. But tomorrow, when I'm supposed to have my other three sixth grade classes for the last time, they have graduation practice. I've always thought graduation practice was useless, but I've never before resented it quite so much as I do now.

So today was my last day. The kids were pretty checked out about it, as a result of the fact that this week seems to be the officially sanctioed bring-your-DS-or-iPad-to-class and watch-movies-all-day week, and because they knew I'd be at their graduation, but they did appreciate the lollipops and cards I made for each of them--and then mobbed me with their yearbooks to sign. And, of course, we took pictures.

The girls of 6-07 took a picture with me...

...while the boys of 6-07 did this.

Lollipops that had lost their wrappers...pretty, though!

Class 6-08 was more cooperative :)

So was Class 6-02.

In between classes, Alison, Maggie and I went down to the general assembly room we've been using all year for Morning English, and which had, yesterday, been emptied of most of its rows of tables, which had been replaced with white plastic deck furniture labeled and set around the room for teachers to sit at for the 6th Annual  Teacher Appreciation Tea Ceremony.

When I first heard we were having a Teacher Appreciation Tea, I pictured an English-style tea such as those that have made their way to America for special occasions and such among those who want to feel posh. Why this was my first logical conclusion  then is a complete mystery to my now. We are in Taiwan, after all!

When it was our shift (yes, everyone was given a shift), we entered the room with about 20 other teachers, and sat in front of a group of probably 70 or so students, plus the ones massing around the doors, whose purpose I didn't yet know. For tea, each teacher in  had an assigned seat and, after a short speech and with the onset of a musical cue, the masses of our students from around the doors flooded forward, one for each teacher, bearing a cup and saucer for each individual teacher. When they got to us, on another cue, they went down on one knee and waited while we drank our tea. So sweet, and so unexpected! And, as a Westerner, very, very foreign to have a student kneeling and waiting on me.

Maggie getting her tea

After the tea--which Alison sadly missed, since her student was late--they put on a slide show of all the kids from this year, together with a sad, anthem-y song which they invited everyone to sing along to. Very poignant--and then the lady who was announcing began commenting on each slide. My favorite moment was when she called out "BEKAH!"...and then the slide didn't have me on it. The next one did, though, and she was ready with her announcement once again!

I got a (really terrible) video of part of the slide show; maybe it will give more of a sense of setting:

It felt very pomp-and-circumstance-ish, though the sensation was somewhat lost when they released us late to our next class, where, after we escaped the clutches of the textbook salesmen, we just handed out cards and watched movies again.

The last class of the day was when the really interesting stuff began, though. In the middle of handing out cards, an announcement came over the intercom--and the whole room broke out in cheers. I turned to Alison. "School cancelled?" "Yes."

It's been raining torrentially all over Taiwan for days--my commute the last few days has been perpetually horrid, and it's flooding elsewhere--and as of this afternoon, the Kaohsiung government finally decided they had had enough, and shut down schools, so everyone could go home...right as the worst of the rain started again, of course.

Then, while walking back (early) from that last class, one of my sixth graders from last semester stepped out of her classroom to get my signature on her yearbook. The next thing I knew, I had every single kid from two classrooms surrounding me and wanting my signature all at once. This when I felt certain that every second I stayed at school would mean a worse drive home--they had closed the schools for a reason, after all, surely!

But, of course, I signed them. How could I not? And then I drove home, during which drive I discovered that the closure was not limited to Hanmin, as I had thougth before, but was, rather, a city-wide proclamation, which meant that the roads were absolutely packed with parents who had been called to come pick up their kids hours early. In the parking garage at home, I ran into one of my neighbors on her way out, and when I cautioned her about the rain, she just smiled and said she had to go pick up her kids. Everyone did, after all!

In light of buqiban culture, I cannot fully imagine the havoc wreaked on everyone's lives today. I didn't think much of it until I went walking to find lunch, and discovered that the vast majority of restaurants around were abnormally closed. Even after they picked up their kids, people are really just hunkering down for this one--Chialing closed up shop early, since, as she told Rachel, there was no one in the streets. And who can blame them?

And now, the lighter note!

Today, as I found myself sucked once again into the Youtube Wormhole, I began wondering what conclusions someone would draw about me if the only information they had available to them, for some strange reason, was my Youtube history and subscriptions. And no, they aren't allowed to look at the videos I've actually uploaded myself, that would be a MUCH more complete and, therefore, less fun view. So here's what they would learn about me, and what they would subsequently assume to be my entire personality:

1. I like comedy sketches
2. I like British things
3. Specifically, I like British accents
4. I like Doctor Who (which is both British and contains British accents)
5. I like the actors of Doctor Who (who are also British and use British accents)
6. I like watching male vloggers
7. Specifically, I like watching male vloggers WITH British accents
8. Most specifically of all, I like watching male vloggers with British accents TALK about Doctor Who (charlieissocoollike and nerimon)

Annnnnd that's pretty much all my Youtube history and subscriptions could tell you: that I like all things funny, British, male, and related to Doctor Who, and preferably several of those things in some combination with each other. But please, please don't think that's my entire personality. It's not. It just happens to be what I usually watch on Youtube. 

And now I'm curious. Based solely on your Youtube history and subscriptions, what would someone assume YOU to be like? Leave a comment if you're brave enough to reply!

加油 Brittany!

I awoke this morning before the alarm went off to the sound of Brittany shuffling around in the dark, then pushing through the heavy wooden doors of our room. I curled up tighter beneath the cover. A few minutes later she returned, and decided 5:30am was late enough.

By 6am, we were all suited up in multiple layers: a tank top, two t-shirts, a long-sleeve shirt, a scarf, a sweatshirt and a raincoat for me, plus jeans and two layers of socks, all beside my requisite knit gloves and Taiwanese face mask. The necessary blue plastic 7-11 poncho and a helmet completed the outfit, and we set out through the rain and the wind towards the race.

After dropping Brittany off at the entrance, getting gas, dropping Karina off with Brittany's stuff, finding a parking spot, walking to the university, finding Karina again, and walking up to the entrance to the school, on a hill overlooking the starting line, we discovered something: there was absolutely no way we could see Brittany in the mix of professional African racers (many of whom got an artificial head start, thanks to a misunderstanding), the pro Chinese and Taiwanese racers, the amateurs of every race who still cared, and the hundreds upon hundreds of racers sporting umbrellas. Oh, Taiwan.

When we were assured that everyone (and, therefore, Brittany) had passed the finish line, we went inside the university--out of the rain and wind, though not the cold, thanks to the joys of outdoor-indoor architecture here--to wait for Brittany to finish, snack on Doritos and nuts, and play "would you rather."

About an hour later, we wandered back into the conditions and to the finish line, where we stood beside a group of clearly co-opted high school cheerleaders performing half-hearted dance routines to classics like "We're All in This Together" as nobody watched, and we cheered for everyone crossing the finish line.

"加油!"

When Brittany finished, we strolled back to our scooters, cheering everyone along the way, to the bemusement of the Taiwanese walking alongside us and, as our home-stay lay back along the race route, took a roundabout way back which still managed to loop alongside the runners, whom we continued to cheer on until we got back.

Without any discussion, we then locked ourselves in our room and beneath our covers, and proceeded to take an hours-long siesta-and-James Bond-movie-marathon session. We were finally roused from our cold-induced stupor by a call from Nick inviting us to join him in visiting the small island offshore. We didn't join him, but we did re-suit up--added a layer of pants to my ensemble--and head back out on our scooters, this time checking out the scenic drive, the Triangle Fort, and then looping back to the shopping area we visited yesterday to buy a few last-minute souvenirs.

While there, we ran into Evan, Miles, John and Jason, and hung out with them as they had some 豆花  (douhua) and squid balls before they headed back to 厦门(Xiamen). We said goodbye and crossed the street to Jessica's, where we ate yesterday, for dinner.

We made a final stop at 馬山(Mashan), where we had just enough daylight left to find the old escape tunnel and walk down to the end, where Karina and I got a glimpse of patrolling Taiwanese boats and the near shore of China.

Still cold but finally coping, we scootered back to our lovely home-stay, where we now sit again, huddled under the covers and watching TV. It's been a good day, and I'm glad we got to be here to cheer on Brittany--and the rest of the un-cheered racers. But you can take me back to warm Kaohsiung now, please!

Cold and Wet

(Another Sunday retrospective.)

It was like Kenting all over again. Windy and wet, and, as an added bonus this time, cold--oh so cold, especially on a scooter. We layered up--t-shirts and sweatshirts and rain coats, that is--but still, our first drive out was miserable: hands numb in the wind, face and eyes stung by the rain, turned to stinging pellets by the velocity at which we were traveling. To make things better, we got lost.

Eventually we flipped around and headed for an emergency 7-11 run, where I slapped down about $10USD for appropriate Kinmen driving gear: knit gloves, the ever-present plastic poncho, and, in the first time I can remember actually wanting to use one, a heavy-duty face mask. With Karina's borrowed sunglasses to top it off, I was set to drive.

Which was a good thing, since it's primarily what we did. We first tracked down National Quemoy University, where Brittany was going to run, and picked up her registration materials. There, Rachel saw fit to lose her ATM card to the BOT machine, inspiring a series of phone calls to the company and Fonda which ended in us leaving to come pick it up later.

From there, we followed a local into town to the cultural shopping district, where we wandered around looking at their emblematic knives made of old artillery shells--as the closest outreaching of Taiwan to China, this place has seen a lot of shelling--and stone lions and peanut candy and beef jerky, the latter two purchased from a very nice lady we spent a while chatting with, we met up with Nick and wandered into a nearby restaurant called Jessica, which was oddly decorated in a combination of Chinese and Taiwanese national emblems--uncomfortable to say the least, given the political history here.

We decided to see more of the island then, and set out to see Kinmen's other famous product, Kaohliang Liquor. We went to the factory, where we learned that they do not have a factory tour, so we just looked around at the showroom and then took off again, first to meet Nick's friends, Evan, Miles, John, and Jason, and leave our souvenirs with them, then off to see a beautiful and beautifully-lit cave system near the sea. It was absolutely gorgeous.

Next it was back towards town, where we found Nick's friends eating an early dinner at another 7-11. We joined them in sitting around, chatting and eating for a while, then we headed back towards our home-stay, though first grabbing a 7-11 dinner (for me, yogurt, nuts, juice, and a Snickers).

Then, as Brittany, Rachel and Karina insisted on watching a horror movies regarding living killer ventriloquist dummies, I re-watched a few episodes of The Office and How I Met Your Mother on my computer, and we had another early night, trying to conserve heat and preparing for a very early morning, one which promised to be, if possible, colder and wetter than this one.

Weather

And, just like that, Kaohsiung's back to feeling like Kaohsiung: sticky and warm. Not to worry, though, I'm not complaining--it feels nice at this point (like a more humid version of September in the Northwest), and maybe I'm imagining things but I'd swear my kids were better behaved today than they've been in months. Maybe there's a connection?

But, in our typical fashion, now that it's nice in Kaohsiung, my apartment plus Karina and Ashley (an ETA from last year who's still living here) are jetting off to Kinmen (金门,pronounced Jinmen but spelled with a K; I have no idea why) for the weekend. And, according to the forecast, it'll be rainy and cool--like it always is when we travel. My personal raincloud strikes again.

Typing that it'll be "rainy and cool" in Jinmen makes me smile; my 6th graders at Qingshan today honed their weather-describing skills; I pulled up a world weather map and had them pick countries to learn the names of and to use to ask about the weather. Fun choices included Greenland, Iceland, Sri Lanka, Mongolia, and Russia, in addition to the more standard picks like Canada, Korea, Australia, and Japan. (I told them they couldn't pick Taiwan.)

So our class consisted of this:

"How's the weather in Russia?"
"It's cold, rainy and snowy in Russia."
"How's the weather in Sri Lanka?"
"It's hot and stormy in Sri Lanka."

And how's the weather in Kaohsiung? It's warm and sticky, with a perfectly blue sky dappled with clouds and air new-cleared by the rain. And I'm loving it--for now.

Driving in the rain

Let me just preface this by saying that I love the rain. My roommates here think I'm crazy; for her college experience, Rachel chose sunny Florida. But not me. I grew up in the Pacific Northwest, and I voluntarily went to college in the city known worldwide for two things: coffee and rain. One of my favorite things in the world is the sound of the rain tickling the window or massaging the roof. So just bear that in mind when I say...

I hate the rain in Taiwan.

Okay, so maybe that's a little harsh. I still love the sounds of the rain, its fresh scent, the damp, clean-washed look of the bricks in my apartment courtyard after it's rained. And perhaps, if those were the only, or even the primary, ways in which I encountered rain here, I'd still love the rain. After all, as friends can attest, it's always raining in Taipei, and I'm always smiling out from under my umbrella.

But, instead, I typically encounter the rain here in what is perhaps the worst way possible apart from being strapped to a waterboard under a drainpipe during a typhoon: driving a scooter.

Now, most of you do not drive a scooter. Most of you, as Google Analytics and my own keen understanding of where most of my friends live tell me, live in the Pacific Northwest, and many of you drive cars. Which means you drive in the rain, and often.

"Come on, Bekah," you say. "It's just rain! You've been driving in it since you were 15, what's the big deal?"

To you, I say this: think back to the last time you were driving in the rain--probably yesterday--and picture this. You're on the freeway, your windshield wipers straining to keep up with the currents streaming down your windshield, which, despite the best efforts of your defrosting unit, is completely fogged over. You clutch the steering wheel and hunch forward to try and see. Ever wary of inevitable hydroplaning, you slow down, and a semi passes you, sending barrels of brown water airborne and painting the side of your car in filth. A van creeps up beside you, attempting to pass at a rate 1mph faster than the speed you're going, and finally settles just in front of you, creating an eternal fountain of brown sludge which coats your windshield and renders your windshield wipers completely useless.

Now picture that you're on a scooter. Your helmet is your windshield, and there are no windshield wipers or defrosting unit; the semis and vans are still semis and vans, but you have no windows or doors or roof and now their spray is heading directly for you, and you alone. Hydroplaning may not be much of a problem, but now you have two wheels, not a stable four, and every surface, including your tires, the road, and, especially, every parking garage's floor, is like ice, so good luck going around corners or down slopes or, as is the case with the parking garage, both at once.

Welcome to my morning commute when it rains. It's me, my helmet, and my 7-11 poncho against the whole wet world, and if I make it to school without my pants soaked to the knee in mud, I count it a good day. So, yes, I hate the rain in Taiwan. You would too. But perhaps it's a necessary prelude, giving me a reason to curse this Taiwanese "winter" and pray again for the harsh and unrelenting sun.

Rain-scented room

My room smells like rain. I opened the window after I went out for dinner at 7, way over-dressed in a sweatshirt and jacket (it was in the 70s today, but my brain still thinks it should be colder) and discovered that the outside was actually warmer than my bedroom. Now, just past midnight and hours past when I meant to leave the window open, my room is still warm despite my oversight--and it smells like rain. Simply lovely.

Growing up, I never knew what rain smelled like--which is odd, given that it rained continually where I grew up. Maybe that was part of the problem. At any rate, I would constantly hear the grown-ups around me talking about how much they loved the smell of rain and I would just sniff a bit and think, "Really? I don't smell anything..."

I can't remember when I first became aware of the smell of rain, but once I did, there was no going back: I love it. Sweet and earthy, crisp, vivacious...it makes me think of home. So having a room filled with that smell, running through the fresh and just-warm-enough air from outside, just about makes my night.

Thing 12:
I tried out a new restaurant for dinner tonight--one that, unlike many of my one new things on here, I've actually been meaning to try for a long time. I pass it whenever I go to the gym or to the gas station, its little green "O2" sign a constant glowing memory that, oh yeah, I should eat there sometime.

And tonight I did! I was on an accidental walking tour of the neighborhood (mishaps with my ATM card led me back to the bank proper), and it was open, and I was starving, so I decided to give it a go. Great idea! Grapefruit juice and pesto bacon spaghetti (I ordered the chicken, but I won't squabble too much) with fresh bell peppers and broccoli mixed in for 130NT--wonderful.

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.

Brief, wet, and wonderful

Up till now, our weekends in Taipei have been WEEKENDS: we get there Friday afternoon and leave Sunday evening. This weekend, by contrast, was quite short: we got there Friday evening and left Saturday afternoon. Which leaves me in the unique and oddly comforting position of being back home in Kaohsiung on Saturday night, with a full day of adventures behind me and a full day of rest ahead of me. It's a nice feeling.

This morning came too early, but I was able to drag myself out of bed with the promise of our freaking amazing hotel shower--which had 6 shower heads. Perhaps it's odd how much I've talked about the bathroom at this hotel, but perhaps it's entirely normal once you've been living for a few months with a so-so shower with so-so water pressure and a so-so temperature gauge. I don't know. All I know is, to quote my brother Scott (who is in turn quoting the movie Hot Rod): "The bathrooms here are NUTS!"

Seriously, though, it's hard to AVOID commenting on this thing...

Also, there was a cat asleep on the ledge outside our window this morning.

Anyway, after breakfast, we split up--Karina had to go back to Kaohsiung early for a wedding, and I joined forces with Fonda, Emily, Rachel and Samia and set out on one of the most weather-uncooperative trips we've had so far, right up there with Kenting. (Honestly, I have yet to be proven wrong on my 'personal rain cloud' theory...maybe there's something there!)

When we left Taipei it was warm; I immediately regretted wearing jeans and a light scarf and jacket (still wishful thinking about Taipei weather), and we ended up walking for a good 40 minutes before we found our bus stop--only to have the bus loop around and go directly past one of the first places we saw. Sigh.

The drive to 九份 (Jiufen) was an adventure in itself, along a windy mountain road in a massive bus and fog banks closing in around us and others. In the brief interludes between clouds, we could see parts of the ocean where it joined the green mountains we were in. When we finally reached the top, it was beautiful.

Also, there was an English sheepdog there. He was getting about as much attention as the view.

 Also, it then began pouring rain. And I do mean pouring. We went down the main shopping alleyway, which was sporadically covered or partially covered with various roofs, but without fail these would give way to an open sky pouring water down on everyone. It became a jostling war of umbrellas, in which I learned that being *slightly* taller than everyone is a terrible thing: when your umbrella goes over theirs, a stream of water inevitably finds some dry portion of your clothing to soak.

And here I re-discovered what I've always known about long pants and rain: they're a terrible combination. By halfway through our journey, my jeans were soaked to the knees and my shoes, like everyone else's, were squelchingly full of water.

All that to say, though, it was a blast! Rain notwithstanding, we got some great pictures (on Fonda's camera), saw a hilarious kung-fu parody rehearsal in the old movie theater, ate some yummy grilled onion jelly stuff and (for Rachel and I) marinated meat rice, then ate some traditional yam-and-taro-and-sticky-rice-in-sauce concoction, and then some traditional Taiwanese ice cream with shaved peanuts wrapped in some sort of crepe. After all, if you don't eat traditional food somewhere, you didn't really visit! I wasn't a huge fan of the taro/yam stuff, but everything else was scrumptious.

I'm just gonna have to go back sometime when it's not raining.

The ride back and journey home was less than pleasant, with rain still pouring and clothes still soaked as we walked from our hotel to the MRT station, but I wouldn't have traded the experience for a "perfect" one. It was an adventure! And now, sitting warm and cozy in my apartment in Kaohsiung this weekend, it's nice to have an adventure already under my belt.

Rain, rain, lovely rain

You know you're a Northwest native when a weather forecast of 24*C and rainy all week not only doesn't dampen your spirits, it lifts them--and that even when you have to drive 20-30 minutes to and from school every day.

So this morning, I donned my full-body 7-11 poncho, covered it with my full-head helmet, hopped aboard my scooter and set out for Siaogang with a smile on my face. It was raining, yes, but it was raining like it rains in Seattle: a slow and constant drizzle. When coupled with pretty decent waterproof gear and a temperature of 75*F, it was actually quite pleasant.

The only real problem was, of course, the back-splash effect; imagine what you have happen with your car on the freeway, then imagine that you're on a scooter. Still, not too terrible an outcome.

When I arrived at school, I couldn't help but think of home as I heard the steady, comforting patter of raindrops on the large plastic cover over Qingshan's central courtyard. It wasn't *quite* cold enough, but I still felt like curling up near a fire somewhere with a book and a big cup of coffee or hot chocolate.

Yet, for some reason, everyone else here is complaining about the rain. It's been going on for a few days now, yes, but it's just drizzling most of the time! Must be the "all the time" part--the very thing that I'm most used to and which few other parts of the country experience. I got a little worried today in the late afternoon, when a thunder-and-lightning storm started up, together with heavier rain, but both finished up before I had to leave, so no harm, no foul. All in all, it's just been a wonderful little reminder of home.

With that reminder, though, comes the recognition of the other little things that should be accompanying rain in the fall--rotting leaves, for instance. Not particularly pleasant things in themselves, but together with frost-bitten nights that leave ice on car windshields in the morning, the cold bite of air when you first inhale outside in the morning, and the welcome comfort of thick hot soups and steaming beverages, they spell fall--a fall we simply miss out on here.

So far, November is my favorite month in Taiwan: a little cooler, and now this wonderfully light and constant misting. It's still not home, but it's something. So, for now, let it rain!

Day in the...Sun?

Today was, against all odds, sunny. And I do mean all odds. Last night all the weather services and typhoon watch websites showed a tropical storm heading straight for Kaohsiung; we had the preliminary rain and wind most of the day yesterday, and today had a promised 90% chance of rain and thunderstorms. I talked to my friend Danny, who was supposed to come today to see the city, and he agreed to postpone until Monday.

And then I woke up this morning to sun shining through my curtains; it wasn't even overcast for most of the day. Go figure. Well, ast least Monday is still forecast to be nice! (Knock on wood.)

So, all that to say, I spent the day much as I would have had the weather not cooperated: lazing about the apartment and enjoying my first weekend in about a month which did not involve me going places and doing things.

The one thing that was different, however, and which I greatly enjoyed, was that I got to go to dinner with my host family tonight! They picked me up at 5:30 and took me to Hotel Kingdom, where they treated me to a fantastic Hong Kong-style buffet. At Margaret's suggestion, I had a little bit of just about everything, from oyster to stewed rib soup to deep fried seafood cakes to crab and curry dumplings to a delicious milk-pudding-and-passion-fruit dessert. It was fantastic.

Please note that I have in front of me a bowl of scrumptious cream of corn-and-seafood soup, topped by puff pastry. Mmmmm....

I had a lot of fun just chatting with them, about everything from American (and Taiwanese) immigration debates to the aboriginal peoples of Taiwan to the fact that I have Cherokee in my ancestry to how Steven's Chinese family name is actually Hakka in origin to what I want to see while I'm here in Taiwan. (Wow, apparently I'm into run-on but still technically grammatically correct lists today...)

After we finished eating, around 8pm, we decided to head over to the Kaohsiung Museum of History for the last hour they were open, since we were in the area. And, for the record, it's both gorgeous and free! We came on the last day of one exhibit and the second day of another, meaning we hit the jackpot of being able to see an exhibit about the cultural rituals surrounding marriage and childhood, and of seeing one about the Daliao area of Kaohsiung.

GORGEOUS building!

They let (encouraged, even) me get inside the display!

These are BIBS. Just saying.

Fantastic day, with or without sun! Moral of the story: take your day, just add host family, and everything becomes sunny. :)

Touristy Things

Given my well-documented love of mornings, especially on the weekends (please sense the sarcasm), it was just wonderful to be out of the house this morning by 9am, ready to catch a train at Zuoying by 9:55. But that's what happened! We (Rachel, Karina, and I) were in Taipei by 11:30, ready to check in at our hostel (a full 8 hours ahead of what we told them originally) and do some serious exploring.

One of the from-the-train vistas

And that's what we did. Armed with several guidebooks, Karina had put together a list of things to do in Taipei, and after a bit of conversation (including where I could go to buy shoes) we had a game plan: go to 陽明山 (YangMingShan), do a little hiking, check out the hot springs there, then come back into the city and go to 士林夜市 (Shilin Night Market), which is the most famous night market in Taiwan (and which, incidentally, sells shoes). We had lunch, got a call from Tom, who we invited to join us, and then set out for the mountain. The sky was cloudy as we descended into the Guting MRT station.

We met Tom and hopped a bus for the mountain top, but as we boarded we noticed something: raindrops. As it turns out, we seem to have a personal raincloud following us on our travels, much as you might see in an old Looney Toons production, but without all the moping. (It was our own fault, we decided, we'd jinxed it: getting of the train this morning I'd said it would be a good weekend if, just once, I got cold, and Rachel wore her bathing suit under her hiking gear) By the time we reached the place to change buses, it was really coming down. By the time we made it to the top (standing in the back of both buses for most of the time, balancing precariously on our feet as they weaved back and forth on crazy switchbacks), the mountain was also completely engulfed in fog. 

So, naturally, we decided to go hiking. We'd already trashed our original idea of hiking to the hot springs, so we were instead in the volcanic region of the park, at the dormant volcano's peak--or near it. To get to it, we'd have to hike 1.6km up the side of a mountain, in the rain, in the wind, on a slippery rock path, surrounded by sulfur, with no just-in-case hiking supplies. This, naturally, is what we set out to do.

We made it about halfway before we realized that we wouldn't have time to complete the hike before the last bus left the mountain, and so turned back, still in the rain, to catch another series of buses down. But before we did, we had a momentary lapse of cloud cover, and could at least catch a glimpse of the crater across the parking lot! But, all too quickly, it was gone.

Quick, clarity!

Out the bus window

So we were back on the bus again. We'd given up on the hot spring idea for the day entirely (which saddened me to no end, given that we were now wet and cold), but soon we were warm again and roaming about the night market. After what I can only describe as the easiest, fastest, and most painless shoe shopping experience of my life, we had accomplished our only hard-and-fast objective and were just taking in the sights like the other swarms of tourists.

And then we went to dinner--at Modern Toilet. For the uninitiated, Modern Toilet sells food and ice cream--in toilet shaped bowls. I wasn't feeling great at this point, so I ordered just ice cream and orange soda (thought it was water, but oh well). The drink came out first (an oddity in Taiwan), and it was in, well, a blue urinal.

Then came the 'ice cream.' Turned out that the ice cream I thought I was ordering, the simple pile of soft serve they are famous for, was not what I had ordered. What I had ordered was this:

Shaved ice with kiwi sauce,  chocolate soft serve, vanilla ice cream, raisins, mango pieces, and kiwi jellies, with random marshmallows etc sprinkled on it

 For a size comparison, here it is (a little depleted) next to what I meant to order, and which Rachel got after her meal:

Aww, look, the cute little baby toilets are gathering around the mama!

Anyway, after that we walked around some more, did a (very little) shopping in some of the stores around the market (one of which smelled and looked like it belonged in downtown Ashland, OR--smoky, tie-died, faux-exotic, belly-dancing...), and even managed to run into Emily, Lydia, and Samia, who were doing the same. Another fun moment came when we saw a stream of illegal street vendors running away from a police officer--and by running, I mean they were quickly but precisely wheeling their entire livelihoods down the middle of a crowded walkway, while a police officer strolled after them several blocks behind. (Clearly, they're really serious about this whole endeavor...)

We were all ready at this point to call it a night. So, after a brief stop-in at one of Tom's regular places, where he ordered stinky tofu (which we all then had to watch/smell him eat), we headed back for the hostel. Here, we discovered it had been taken over by middle-aged and older Taiwanese people, which was a bit of a shock given that hostels are normally for the young and are usually dominated by out-of-country people. I'm guessing, though, that at this point all the hotels are booked, and you take what you can get!

So that's it for now. Tomorrow we're going to chase Karina's ritual of taking photobooth pictures in every Asian country she visits, then actually go to the hot springs. Undetermined after that--we might meet up with another alum from my high school, but who knows--but hopefully the weather will realize we don't live in a cartoon, and hold for whatever we end up doing. 

Which will, inevitably, be touristy things.

More Rain

On the assumption that the weather would be better today, our plan was to wake up at 7:30 this morning and head straight over to the hot springs so we could get one more thing out of our trip. But when we woke up at 7:30, we found our window being pelted by rain and wind, even worse than yesterday.

So we went back to sleep. And we tried again at 10:30. And went back to sleep. And again at 11:30--when we finally decided to get up, considering that check-out was at noon, and our scooters had to be back by 1:30.

Of course, the rain had only gone from bad to worse in this time, so in the six or so blocks from the hostel to the rental place, we were absolutely, completely, totally drenched. My raincoat did next to nothing at this point, and I was just glad I'd packed my laptop next to my back and beneath several layers of towel and clothes. If I hadn't, I probably wouldn't be typing on it now.

Back in Kaohsiung, it was still raining, and I had my last cup of coffee from my first pound of Zoka's coffee I brought with me from Seattle. Wishing I'd brought more, but I guess I'll see what my options are when I actually run out, probably towards the beginning of December.

So it's been a slow, rainy day in all, with nothing to report but a constant dampness and some travel. Hopefully next Kenting trip will have better weather and the cool stories!

Into the Wind

Today I boarded a bus for Kenting, Taiwan's coastal paradise; to the city which is named "eternal spring." I was super excited to finally get a taste of a tropical beach, since I have never before in my life been to an ocean warm enough to get into, or blue enough to see through. I was thorough in my packing--grabbed my 30 SPF sunscreen, two swimsuits, shorts, sundress, sandals--and, just in case, a rain coat and tennis shoes. I was ready for a beach unlike that in the Pacific Northwest--one that did not involve wind and rain.

But, as it turned out, wind and rain is what I got.

I pictured this (actual picture of Kenting from the Internet)

And got this (actual picture of Kenting from hostel window. Note the raindrops)

The whole trip down to Kenting was overcast-ish outside, but could still see patches of sun, and I grew more and more excited as I saw the coastline appear and realized that, when I got out, it would still be warm.

Then we got closer. Right around 5 minutes beforehand, it started raining. And it didn't stop. I put on my raincoat before we stepped outside, and then began the sprint for the nearest 7-11 so Brittany, Rachel, and Karina could buy ponchos. And I discovered that my thinking ahead was actually not the best of plans, since they were now better covered than I was. Which became a big regret as our taxi driver couldn't find our hostel and we wandered back and forth within a few blocks of it for a while asking people before we finally found it--and my stuff, and everything not covered by my raincoat, was soaked. Around this time, the rain began going sideways.

By the time we were in our room, the wind was gusting against the screen door and I was wondering how we could possibly do anything. Did I mention that a typhoon recently just missed Taiwan and hit Hong Kong instead? Turns out these are the edges of it. Today I've felt exactly like I'm at the Oregon coast--all wind and rain--but with the thermostat turned up about 40*. Very odd, yet oddly homey. Wind and rain: normal!

So with that wether, naturally, we rented scooters and headed for the beach!

And oh yeah--when our hostel owner drove us to get the scooters, he got pulled over. Seriously, this day was shaping up to be a combination of the least likely events ever. Rain and wind in Kenting? Check. Police involved? Check. What next?

Still don't know what they wanted...

The beach was not quite doable, so after lunch (delicious Italian), we decided to do some shopping, then head up to the Southernmost point of Taiwan and see the lighthouse there around sunset. But there were...complications, beginning with the marginal typhoon-strength wind. Driving a scooter in driving rain and wind is somewhat less than fun, and then Rachel and Brittany, who were leading, went past the turn-off for the Southernmost point, and then up an unprotected mountain. It had a GLORIOUS view, but Karina and I turned back--it was impossible to keep a straight line.

And we headed back to the Southernmost point! It was wonderful, and the winds were actually a boon there--high winds equal high waves which are beautiful to look at. Then the lighthouse, where we met some roving dogs who were also watching the sunset. Rachel and Brittany eventually made it back, and while we waited for them by the lighthouse, we were guarded by an adorable little golden dog, who reminded me of the cat in The Horse and His Boy, when Shasta is by the tombs. (If you don't get that reference, you're probably more normal than me, but you'd best go read that book.)

Trail to the Southernmost point

Looking south at the tip

LOVE the waves in the wind!

Eluanbi Lighthouse

Sunset. :)

On the way back, we stopped through at the Kenting night market, which had filled with people who had materialized out of nowhere--the streets were all but empty earlier today--and had a bit more shopping time. Tried on numerous hats, none of which quite worked, and bought a sweet travel coffee mug with Taiwan stuff on it, and--of course--watermelon milk. I have to say, too, that Kenting night market is a bit of a nightmare: a bunch of people at a market are annoying no matter what, then add in the vacation aspect, and it's not good. Still great time, though.

This doesn't even begin to cover the epicness of the day--I'll do more later. But the wind is still beating on our door, and we're getting up early tomorrow to enjoy what will hopefully be a less storm day in Kenting, so that's it for now. Turns out the "eternal spring" in Kenting is currently stuck in April, with no chance of May.