There was a bear, and this bear, he had no hair. He swore, "I will get to the bottom of this, no matter how deep it goes!"
So he asked the parrot, but the parrot wouldn't talk. It was acting flighty, besides.
He ate the parrot.
He asked the earthworm, but it had no dirt. He ate it, and was left with a bad taste in his mouth.
He asked the giraffe, since it sticks its neck into everything - but it held its head high. The bear ate it, too, but was only hungry enough to shorten the legs.
"That'll bring him down to earth," said the bear.
He asked the elephant, since it sticks its nose into all sorts of thing, and has great ears besides. But things did not go well. Elephants are very sensitive to questions about hair.
The bear left before anything went down.
He asked the bee, since it's a busybody, but all its buzz was maddeningly inane. Bees are bad to eat. He did eat its house and honey, though.
The lurking spiders hadn't seen anything, nor caught anything in their secret webs; the birds wouldn't sing, the rats didn't squeak, and the owls only asked, "who?"
After all this grilling, the bear was now full - both of food and questions. He was also full of disappointment, and sighs.
So, when he met a pack of punk dogs, he did not ask for answers.
These punk dogs had perhaps once been hot, but they'd shaved off their hair. Now they were unleashed - they always did just as they pleased. The huge hairless bear was a big hit; before long he found himself with piercings and tattoos covering his bare skin, just like the pack he ran with. He felt happy, and free.
Then winter came. And it was cold - its' bite was especially bad through the new metal barbs in his skin.
The dogs said they would go to their homes; they would return to their masters, whom would not welcome a bear. But the bear was still bald, and could not sleep soundly through the long winter's night. Angry, he asked the dogs:
"What do you know of my barrenness?"
"Nothing till now. Ask the doctor, not us."
And he growled.
"Oh! Then, you're a baron, looking for his wife?"
He grumbled.
"No? Why worry? You, being barren, will match the empty land of ice - and like cannot hurt like; you will not freeze."
"I want my hair."
They barked with laughter, and told him he would be a traitor to rebellion if he should want such a thing. He thought of those dogs, hot by the fire, and decided he'd rather it be him full of hot dogs, than those homes.
Their piercings got stuck in his teeth, and he wandered the snowy cold, miserable, in need of floss, and alone (but for a pack of done hot dogs).
It was late and dark when a light dawned on him, and there, stood his fairy bearmother. "What is the matter, you naked mess? Were you born just now, fat, naked, full-grown, and alone?"
He was cold, and hungry, and his spirits were low, not like this flying one, and so he grumbled that he was bare, and that his bare back would be much better if he could get his bear hair back.
She growled, "your answer's as obvious as your birthday suit, and would suitably conceal that, too. Or is your head as empty as your coat?"
But he was a bear, and not terribly clever. Instantly he thought of eating her, and she said "I've been watching you, though not for the view. Think it again - you'll lose your skin, too." Fairy bears are big and hairy, flying, and very scary.
So he left.
He wandered the wintry wastes. He asked the wind for answers, but it only whispered. The wolves howled, the trees sighed, fishing was fruitless, and even the rivers froze up. No answers came.
Lumbering along, he again found the giraffe, though now, as it lay on the ground, they could see eye-to-eye. "Arrogant animal, see how I've grounded you!" laughed the bear, darkly, at his own cut-down. "But we two are too alike now - cold, but only you from the icy grip that even spring won't thaw; yet." Then he saw it would no longer need its coat, said,
"We shall come close for warmth," and took it for his own.
His investigations over, the bear was glad to find some sort of cover-up. "Finally! A solution to that hairy problem!" the bear exclaimed.
"Better yet, I didn't have to beg or borrow, and there's no ugly, bothersome to-pay!"
And somewhere, the fairy bearmother laughed.
Who knew a cover-up could be so heartwarming?
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Sunday, September 17, 2006
My cross-country trip
Sounds impressive, right? Taiwan can be driven across in something like 7 hours though, so I suppose it's not saying much.
As you've noticed, (I know by your admonishments), I haven't written much lately. I'll start with my arrival at NTU - there are things I'd still like to say about my summer, but I should write a little about what I'm doing now.
Alright - time for a narrative.
It was a sunny Sunday morning when I meant to leave, three weeks ago now. I'd returned to Tainan from Jia Yi the previous evening, seen a few of the remaining teachers, and then stayed up late to say goodbye to the Canadians (they left at 3 AM, because, as godless Canadians, they have awful lives; I like them anyway, though).
That sunny Sunday morning I mentioned was nearly over by the time I got up. So I showered, went to eat, came back, and found that a big group was going to leave for lunch. I'd just eaten and needed to pack, so I figured they'd eat and come back soon enough, and I'd be done packing, and could say goodbye then.
I packed my stuff.
And I waited.
Something I might have mentioned before is that the students here seemed to like us. So, while I was waiting, there were two students just hanging out at the World Passport office - Emily and Vinnie, whom I'd never met before. There was nothing else to do, they were nice, and they seemed to like me, so we spent some time talking; they told me I could take the bus instead of the train, and that it was cheaper but just as fast. We checked it out online, and sure enough, the bus was a better deal. Also important: I brought enough stuff for a year, and I gained quite a bit more stuff while teaching - so I had two bags weighing about 50 lbs apiece - and that's very difficult to maneuver with, or even find a place for on the train. The bus has a place for luggage.
I kept waiting: around 3 or 3:30, most of the people who'd left came back. I have a volunteer at NTU who's supposed to show me around and help me out, and I'd emailed her saying I'd be getting in sometime Sunday afternoon - originally I'd planned on it being around 4 or 5, but, as time went on and my coworkers didn't return, I emailed her saying I'd be there around 7 or 8. Things would have been much easier with a phone, but I didn't have one at the time. I decided I'd say goodbye to the people who were there, and then leave, since I couldn't afford to wait any longer. So that's what I did.
The two girls I mentioned, Emily and Vinnie, offered to go with me to the train station. This was very kind, especially as the buses are kind of confusing (where they go is not clearly labeled most of the time, at least, not in English), and the station was a ways away. I also didn't know where it was. The one girl said she'd meet us there, and left on her bike. I wasn't sure why at the time. The other rode with me in the cab. When we were most of the way there, it occurred to me I didn't know how they were getting back. So I offered to pay their way back, but the one riding with me (Vinnie, I think - sorry, it's been several weeks, and we only met the one time) said the other (Emily) would give her a ride back on her bike. Here in Taiwan they've got these special gladiatorial-looking spikes sticking out from the back tires of their bikes that can be used as footrests for a second rider. I didn't think that sounded like a good option, but she refused to consider taking a cab back, and said the bike wouldn't fit anyway. There wasn't much I could do, so I let her do what she wanted.
We arrived at the bus station about 4:00 - right as the bus for Taipei pulled away. I thought there'd be another right away, but, like usual, I was wrong. We went up to the counter, the girls negotiated the purchase of a ticket, and they told me the next bus wouldn't be until 4:30 or so. I thought I'd wait that long - the bus was $300 NT cheaper than the train (like $10...I know, it doesn't sound like that much).
As we were waiting, an announcement was made - the bus would actually be later than scheduled. I considered for a few minutes whether I should just get a refund and ride the train (the train station is right by the bus station), but, while I was thinking, another bus pulled up - bound for Taipei! I really can't commend these girls enough for their kindness - they were willing to sit with me the entire time, until I got on the bus, even if it was late. However, I am certain they would rather not have sat around in the heat (like most things in Taiwan, the waiting area for the buses is outside), and they knew I'd like to get to Taipei at a reasonable time. Once everyone was on the bus, they asked if I could maybe ride that one instead - I think it was a nicer bus than what I paid for. There was a seat left, so the driver let me on. I really appreciate that - and I really want to thank Emily and Vinnie for all their help, though I don't know if they'll ever read this.
So I rode the bus.
It seems like there shouldn't be much to write about, and there isn't - except that I forgot something obvious.
Buses drive on roads.
On Sunday evenings, everyone drives back into the cities from whatever nicer places they've gone.
And that means gridlock.
I noticed we were not making very good time, and I was nervous - I hoped my volunteer was not waiting for me. I hadn't told her any time or place to meet at, but.... Anyway, I did have her phone number, but no phone, and no phone card. When we did make a rest stop (twice? Three times?) there was no announcement on how long we'd be there, and I doubt I'd have had enough time to buy a card and call - the buses here do not wait. So I was a little nervous. (Side note: the bus did have a bathroom, which was downstairs with the luggage - it was only about four feet high, though, and it had a squat toilet. If you are thinking, "you're a guy! What would you care?", then I will tell you why it matters. It matters because squat toilets do not have high sides - there is liquid sloshing around in them, contained by at best a 4 inch high barrier, and if there is a sudden stop, I imagine you'd get a little wet, no matter where you were standing. Anyway, it's not comfortable).
I didn't get into Taipei until about 10:30 PM.
I thought I'd find a convenience store and a payphone, so I could call Rae (that's my volunteer's name), but as soon as I stepped off the bus I was hailed by a taxi driver. Keep in mind that it's late and I'm tired, and don't especially want to lug around two 50 lb bags looking for a place to buy a phone card, and especially not through crowds of people.
So I take the cab.
And discover that I've lost the business card listing who to call at the school (not that it'd really matter, since it was almost 11 on a Sunday evening by then), and I remember I don't really know where to go. So I tell the driver I want to go to 台大 ("Taida" - the quick way of saying 國立台灣大學 "guoli taiwan daxue"). He gets me there in about 10 minutes - it's not far. Since I don't know where to go, I try telling him to just drop me off at the front gate, but he doesn't understand, or he wants to drive me all the way, or something. So we drive around aimlessly, trying to figure out where I'm supposed to be. I have no idea, of course - earlier in the day, I'd tried to open up the documents and emails I had explaining where to go, who to contact, and in what order, but they just wouldn't work (thank you very much, Adobe Acrobat reader - you work just as well as one would expect from an acrobat made of adobe. Why would I want something like that in charge of reading anything, anyway?)
He finally becomes convinced he's found the right place, so I agree that it must be right, and I get out of the car. I get my stuff, pay him, and then slowly walk toward the entrance of the building, because I know for a fact it is not the right place. I hope he'll leave so I can walk to the front gate. I've already walked off a little distance, and I'm out of his sight. I turn around: of course, he's still there - oblivious to me, he's pissing on a tree. That's the first time I've seen anyone do that in Taiwan. So I linger for a minute, he leaves, and I go to the front gate.
And there is a payphone!
So I rush to use it - and find it only takes calling cards.
Instead, I walk to the guard shack to try to get some help. The guard does not speak English, and I speak only enough Chinese to confuse him. He pulls out a map, I point at where I want to go (I don't know where I am, only the location of the building I want to go to), and he understands. He circles our location, then the destination (unfortunately on opposite sides of the campus), and traces a path that is so indirect I wonder if there's some mystical Chinese bullshit to be learned from it.
There is not.
Keep in mind that though it's past 11 at this point, it's still something like 85 degrees, with almost 100% humidity, and that I'm lugging two fifty-pound bags across the entire campus; that's not mentioning my backpack, which is also full, and good not only at holding things, but retaining heat as well.
Across campus, 30(?) minutes later, and about 10 pounds lighter (water loss!) -
I find the dorm. It is locked. I am despondent, and decide to go find a hotel...though I hadn't seen any nearby. Suddenly, a girl shows up and lets me in. I'm glad for her help, but there's no one at the desk to check me in, and I don't know where my room is. So, after a little looking, I decide I'm going to go find a convenience store to call Rae, or a hotel, whichever comes first.
Something I should mention about this campus - it seems extradimensional. Somehow, the path you take never quite takes you where you'd expect. I ended up at an exit, though, and, out of desperation, I asked the guard if he knew where I could find a phone. He offered that I could use his. Very gratefully, I did.
Rae seemed surprised and confounded to hear from me so late - but she got things straightened out. She called the guy in charge of the dorm, told him I'd be by, and gave me his number.
So I thanked her, and the guard, then walked back to the dorm.
The guy in charge was there, lounging on the porch, which made me insanely angry - sure, he's there late, just trying to help me, but I've just spent the last 45 minutes literally dragging 100 pounds around, with almost no water, in fairly unpleasant weather, and my clothes are all soaked with sweat. To see someone relaxed, lounging around, just waiting for me - well, I wanted to crush him under my bags.
And then there was paperwork.
I finally got into my dorm about 12:15 or so, met my new roommate for the first time by waking him up, smelled the horrors of the room, saw the bed, and decided I really didn't care. I was tired.
So I slept.
And so went my first day at NTU.
As you've noticed, (I know by your admonishments), I haven't written much lately. I'll start with my arrival at NTU - there are things I'd still like to say about my summer, but I should write a little about what I'm doing now.
Alright - time for a narrative.
It was a sunny Sunday morning when I meant to leave, three weeks ago now. I'd returned to Tainan from Jia Yi the previous evening, seen a few of the remaining teachers, and then stayed up late to say goodbye to the Canadians (they left at 3 AM, because, as godless Canadians, they have awful lives; I like them anyway, though).
That sunny Sunday morning I mentioned was nearly over by the time I got up. So I showered, went to eat, came back, and found that a big group was going to leave for lunch. I'd just eaten and needed to pack, so I figured they'd eat and come back soon enough, and I'd be done packing, and could say goodbye then.
I packed my stuff.
And I waited.
Something I might have mentioned before is that the students here seemed to like us. So, while I was waiting, there were two students just hanging out at the World Passport office - Emily and Vinnie, whom I'd never met before. There was nothing else to do, they were nice, and they seemed to like me, so we spent some time talking; they told me I could take the bus instead of the train, and that it was cheaper but just as fast. We checked it out online, and sure enough, the bus was a better deal. Also important: I brought enough stuff for a year, and I gained quite a bit more stuff while teaching - so I had two bags weighing about 50 lbs apiece - and that's very difficult to maneuver with, or even find a place for on the train. The bus has a place for luggage.
I kept waiting: around 3 or 3:30, most of the people who'd left came back. I have a volunteer at NTU who's supposed to show me around and help me out, and I'd emailed her saying I'd be getting in sometime Sunday afternoon - originally I'd planned on it being around 4 or 5, but, as time went on and my coworkers didn't return, I emailed her saying I'd be there around 7 or 8. Things would have been much easier with a phone, but I didn't have one at the time. I decided I'd say goodbye to the people who were there, and then leave, since I couldn't afford to wait any longer. So that's what I did.
The two girls I mentioned, Emily and Vinnie, offered to go with me to the train station. This was very kind, especially as the buses are kind of confusing (where they go is not clearly labeled most of the time, at least, not in English), and the station was a ways away. I also didn't know where it was. The one girl said she'd meet us there, and left on her bike. I wasn't sure why at the time. The other rode with me in the cab. When we were most of the way there, it occurred to me I didn't know how they were getting back. So I offered to pay their way back, but the one riding with me (Vinnie, I think - sorry, it's been several weeks, and we only met the one time) said the other (Emily) would give her a ride back on her bike. Here in Taiwan they've got these special gladiatorial-looking spikes sticking out from the back tires of their bikes that can be used as footrests for a second rider. I didn't think that sounded like a good option, but she refused to consider taking a cab back, and said the bike wouldn't fit anyway. There wasn't much I could do, so I let her do what she wanted.
We arrived at the bus station about 4:00 - right as the bus for Taipei pulled away. I thought there'd be another right away, but, like usual, I was wrong. We went up to the counter, the girls negotiated the purchase of a ticket, and they told me the next bus wouldn't be until 4:30 or so. I thought I'd wait that long - the bus was $300 NT cheaper than the train (like $10...I know, it doesn't sound like that much).
As we were waiting, an announcement was made - the bus would actually be later than scheduled. I considered for a few minutes whether I should just get a refund and ride the train (the train station is right by the bus station), but, while I was thinking, another bus pulled up - bound for Taipei! I really can't commend these girls enough for their kindness - they were willing to sit with me the entire time, until I got on the bus, even if it was late. However, I am certain they would rather not have sat around in the heat (like most things in Taiwan, the waiting area for the buses is outside), and they knew I'd like to get to Taipei at a reasonable time. Once everyone was on the bus, they asked if I could maybe ride that one instead - I think it was a nicer bus than what I paid for. There was a seat left, so the driver let me on. I really appreciate that - and I really want to thank Emily and Vinnie for all their help, though I don't know if they'll ever read this.
So I rode the bus.
It seems like there shouldn't be much to write about, and there isn't - except that I forgot something obvious.
Buses drive on roads.
On Sunday evenings, everyone drives back into the cities from whatever nicer places they've gone.
And that means gridlock.
I noticed we were not making very good time, and I was nervous - I hoped my volunteer was not waiting for me. I hadn't told her any time or place to meet at, but.... Anyway, I did have her phone number, but no phone, and no phone card. When we did make a rest stop (twice? Three times?) there was no announcement on how long we'd be there, and I doubt I'd have had enough time to buy a card and call - the buses here do not wait. So I was a little nervous. (Side note: the bus did have a bathroom, which was downstairs with the luggage - it was only about four feet high, though, and it had a squat toilet. If you are thinking, "you're a guy! What would you care?", then I will tell you why it matters. It matters because squat toilets do not have high sides - there is liquid sloshing around in them, contained by at best a 4 inch high barrier, and if there is a sudden stop, I imagine you'd get a little wet, no matter where you were standing. Anyway, it's not comfortable).
I didn't get into Taipei until about 10:30 PM.
I thought I'd find a convenience store and a payphone, so I could call Rae (that's my volunteer's name), but as soon as I stepped off the bus I was hailed by a taxi driver. Keep in mind that it's late and I'm tired, and don't especially want to lug around two 50 lb bags looking for a place to buy a phone card, and especially not through crowds of people.
So I take the cab.
And discover that I've lost the business card listing who to call at the school (not that it'd really matter, since it was almost 11 on a Sunday evening by then), and I remember I don't really know where to go. So I tell the driver I want to go to 台大 ("Taida" - the quick way of saying 國立台灣大學 "guoli taiwan daxue"). He gets me there in about 10 minutes - it's not far. Since I don't know where to go, I try telling him to just drop me off at the front gate, but he doesn't understand, or he wants to drive me all the way, or something. So we drive around aimlessly, trying to figure out where I'm supposed to be. I have no idea, of course - earlier in the day, I'd tried to open up the documents and emails I had explaining where to go, who to contact, and in what order, but they just wouldn't work (thank you very much, Adobe Acrobat reader - you work just as well as one would expect from an acrobat made of adobe. Why would I want something like that in charge of reading anything, anyway?)
He finally becomes convinced he's found the right place, so I agree that it must be right, and I get out of the car. I get my stuff, pay him, and then slowly walk toward the entrance of the building, because I know for a fact it is not the right place. I hope he'll leave so I can walk to the front gate. I've already walked off a little distance, and I'm out of his sight. I turn around: of course, he's still there - oblivious to me, he's pissing on a tree. That's the first time I've seen anyone do that in Taiwan. So I linger for a minute, he leaves, and I go to the front gate.
And there is a payphone!
So I rush to use it - and find it only takes calling cards.
Instead, I walk to the guard shack to try to get some help. The guard does not speak English, and I speak only enough Chinese to confuse him. He pulls out a map, I point at where I want to go (I don't know where I am, only the location of the building I want to go to), and he understands. He circles our location, then the destination (unfortunately on opposite sides of the campus), and traces a path that is so indirect I wonder if there's some mystical Chinese bullshit to be learned from it.
There is not.
Keep in mind that though it's past 11 at this point, it's still something like 85 degrees, with almost 100% humidity, and that I'm lugging two fifty-pound bags across the entire campus; that's not mentioning my backpack, which is also full, and good not only at holding things, but retaining heat as well.
Across campus, 30(?) minutes later, and about 10 pounds lighter (water loss!) -
I find the dorm. It is locked. I am despondent, and decide to go find a hotel...though I hadn't seen any nearby. Suddenly, a girl shows up and lets me in. I'm glad for her help, but there's no one at the desk to check me in, and I don't know where my room is. So, after a little looking, I decide I'm going to go find a convenience store to call Rae, or a hotel, whichever comes first.
Something I should mention about this campus - it seems extradimensional. Somehow, the path you take never quite takes you where you'd expect. I ended up at an exit, though, and, out of desperation, I asked the guard if he knew where I could find a phone. He offered that I could use his. Very gratefully, I did.
Rae seemed surprised and confounded to hear from me so late - but she got things straightened out. She called the guy in charge of the dorm, told him I'd be by, and gave me his number.
So I thanked her, and the guard, then walked back to the dorm.
The guy in charge was there, lounging on the porch, which made me insanely angry - sure, he's there late, just trying to help me, but I've just spent the last 45 minutes literally dragging 100 pounds around, with almost no water, in fairly unpleasant weather, and my clothes are all soaked with sweat. To see someone relaxed, lounging around, just waiting for me - well, I wanted to crush him under my bags.
And then there was paperwork.
I finally got into my dorm about 12:15 or so, met my new roommate for the first time by waking him up, smelled the horrors of the room, saw the bed, and decided I really didn't care. I was tired.
So I slept.
And so went my first day at NTU.
Friday, September 01, 2006
A little about my last host family (am I a cancer or parasite?)
Like so often of late, I haven't had much time to write. And I've forgotten so much, too.
Before I forget again, I would like to direct your attention to a site (or your sight to a site?) - my fellow teacher Jordan not only is a professional photographer, he also has a nice camera. Oh, and nice pictures. I'm not in any of them, of course, because I'm not nearly interesting enough to look at, but they are nice photos - http://www.jordandiamond.com/index.php?category=5 . So that's what some things in Taiwan look like. I even know where some of those things are, and have seen them myself! I have to admit, though, the picture with the tractors in the cloudy moonlit forest is one of the most hilarious things I have ever seen. It's moody - and then there are tractors!
Hmm. Maybe that's just me, though. Keep it forever, Jordan! I want a copy!
My last homestay family, which will remain nameless but awesome for now (mostly because I don't know how to write the characters for their name...well, I guess I could just spell it Guo, which I guess is right) took me to an amusement park two weekends ago now. I really enjoyed my time with them, and hopefully it goes vice-versa, too. I'm going to digress now, as I always do. This family, the Guos (that doesn't look quite right...), consists of a mother who works tirelessly to keep everyone happy (and me so well-fed that I couldn't move to leave them), a father who also works tirelessly doing research and development for a car-parts company (he does transmissions, thus, 'tirelessly' - oh yeah, bad pun!), a son whose age I've forgotten (12, right?), and a daughter named Melissa, whose age (sorry!)I also can't remember at the moment. 14? Oh, well, I guess the mother doesn't really work tirelessly, after all - she is always buzzing around on her scooter buying things and running errands, not to mention ferrying people back and forth in her car, so I suppose if she were working tirelessly she wouldn't get far.
So that last one was a bit stretched. I don't care, because I'm tired. And I'm writing. Get your own blog if you don't like it! Bah!
Before I interrupted myself, though, I was going to say there are two other members of the family - Melissa's two friends. The night I first came over, so did they. And they were both there every night and day after that. I never actually asked if they're always there that often, but I suspect not. They're a lot of fun to be around, though, so I didn't mind, and I guess the family must not either. Their names were Stella and Gina. Not that they only exist in the past or anything - it's just that those are no longer their names. After being there only a few days, they told me that they were unhappy with the names they had - they are sort of common ones here, and they didn't exactly get to pick them.
Oh! I should explain. Every Chinese person I know of picks an English name to go by. I guess they don't use their Chinese names because most of us just can't get the tones right and would end up mangling their names (imagine your name was Melony and people in one part of the world kept calling you "Morony" - you'd probably want to pick a different name to go by there). Many of them pick their names at a fairly young age: a mistake, I'd think - would you want to stick with anything you chose around the age of 12-16? I suspect if we did the same thing, we'd have a lot of guys named "Badass Awesome Death Killer!" With the exclamation mark. Probably more than one, actually. As another sidenote, many Chinese people pick English names that aren't actually English and aren't any easier to remember. Like Korean or Japanese names. Or they'll go the opposite way and pick names that are very memorable for all the wrong reasons. Like Baggy. Or Lamp.
Well, also they're given a very small list of names by their teacher to choose from, so there are a lot of Angelas, and Angels, and Stellas, and Ambers, and things like that.
Back to my original digression. They were unhappy with their noms de...Anglais? (Yes, you're right, I don't know French. But I do know how to use online dictionaries! Well, it's not like they're guerilla fighters, or famous writers, or anything like that, right?) So they asked for me to think of good names for them.
I am not good with names. Remembering them, or thinking of them. So, I turned to my comfort and guidance!
No, not the Internet, though some of you may have thought so. Unfortunately Biblical names for women are somewhat scarce, and either already very popular, or unpopular due to their strange sound.
So I turned to the Internet (you knew it would happen - in addition to the prohibition against turning to any other gods, perhaps it should read, "or the Internet". heh.). This site, specifically - http://www.behindthename.com/ . It's pretty good. I let them scroll through, and when they found ones they liked, I'd give them my opinion as a native speaker - in the end, they ended up choosing the names "Phoebe" and "Reina". Phoebe will tell you I gave her her name, but I only supervised. She did it herself.
Oh - one other funny thing - Phoebe is artistic. She'd seen one other teacher's signiture, and it included a little smiley face, or a penguin, or things like that on occasion. So she asked me if she could maybe draw a little cat with her signature. I told her it was her name and she could do whatever she wanted with it...which was typically thoughtless of me. So now whenever she writes her name, not just signs it, it includes a little cat face on the P of Phoebe. It's got little whiskers sticking out and everything.
That's it for now - I'll write more later.
Before I forget again, I would like to direct your attention to a site (or your sight to a site?) - my fellow teacher Jordan not only is a professional photographer, he also has a nice camera. Oh, and nice pictures. I'm not in any of them, of course, because I'm not nearly interesting enough to look at, but they are nice photos - http://www.jordandiamond.com/index.php?category=5 . So that's what some things in Taiwan look like. I even know where some of those things are, and have seen them myself! I have to admit, though, the picture with the tractors in the cloudy moonlit forest is one of the most hilarious things I have ever seen. It's moody - and then there are tractors!
Hmm. Maybe that's just me, though. Keep it forever, Jordan! I want a copy!
My last homestay family, which will remain nameless but awesome for now (mostly because I don't know how to write the characters for their name...well, I guess I could just spell it Guo, which I guess is right) took me to an amusement park two weekends ago now. I really enjoyed my time with them, and hopefully it goes vice-versa, too. I'm going to digress now, as I always do. This family, the Guos (that doesn't look quite right...), consists of a mother who works tirelessly to keep everyone happy (and me so well-fed that I couldn't move to leave them), a father who also works tirelessly doing research and development for a car-parts company (he does transmissions, thus, 'tirelessly' - oh yeah, bad pun!), a son whose age I've forgotten (12, right?), and a daughter named Melissa, whose age (sorry!)I also can't remember at the moment. 14? Oh, well, I guess the mother doesn't really work tirelessly, after all - she is always buzzing around on her scooter buying things and running errands, not to mention ferrying people back and forth in her car, so I suppose if she were working tirelessly she wouldn't get far.
So that last one was a bit stretched. I don't care, because I'm tired. And I'm writing. Get your own blog if you don't like it! Bah!
Before I interrupted myself, though, I was going to say there are two other members of the family - Melissa's two friends. The night I first came over, so did they. And they were both there every night and day after that. I never actually asked if they're always there that often, but I suspect not. They're a lot of fun to be around, though, so I didn't mind, and I guess the family must not either. Their names were Stella and Gina. Not that they only exist in the past or anything - it's just that those are no longer their names. After being there only a few days, they told me that they were unhappy with the names they had - they are sort of common ones here, and they didn't exactly get to pick them.
Oh! I should explain. Every Chinese person I know of picks an English name to go by. I guess they don't use their Chinese names because most of us just can't get the tones right and would end up mangling their names (imagine your name was Melony and people in one part of the world kept calling you "Morony" - you'd probably want to pick a different name to go by there). Many of them pick their names at a fairly young age: a mistake, I'd think - would you want to stick with anything you chose around the age of 12-16? I suspect if we did the same thing, we'd have a lot of guys named "Badass Awesome Death Killer!" With the exclamation mark. Probably more than one, actually. As another sidenote, many Chinese people pick English names that aren't actually English and aren't any easier to remember. Like Korean or Japanese names. Or they'll go the opposite way and pick names that are very memorable for all the wrong reasons. Like Baggy. Or Lamp.
Well, also they're given a very small list of names by their teacher to choose from, so there are a lot of Angelas, and Angels, and Stellas, and Ambers, and things like that.
Back to my original digression. They were unhappy with their noms de...Anglais? (Yes, you're right, I don't know French. But I do know how to use online dictionaries! Well, it's not like they're guerilla fighters, or famous writers, or anything like that, right?) So they asked for me to think of good names for them.
I am not good with names. Remembering them, or thinking of them. So, I turned to my comfort and guidance!
No, not the Internet, though some of you may have thought so. Unfortunately Biblical names for women are somewhat scarce, and either already very popular, or unpopular due to their strange sound.
So I turned to the Internet (you knew it would happen - in addition to the prohibition against turning to any other gods, perhaps it should read, "or the Internet". heh.). This site, specifically - http://www.behindthename.com/ . It's pretty good. I let them scroll through, and when they found ones they liked, I'd give them my opinion as a native speaker - in the end, they ended up choosing the names "Phoebe" and "Reina". Phoebe will tell you I gave her her name, but I only supervised. She did it herself.
Oh - one other funny thing - Phoebe is artistic. She'd seen one other teacher's signiture, and it included a little smiley face, or a penguin, or things like that on occasion. So she asked me if she could maybe draw a little cat with her signature. I told her it was her name and she could do whatever she wanted with it...which was typically thoughtless of me. So now whenever she writes her name, not just signs it, it includes a little cat face on the P of Phoebe. It's got little whiskers sticking out and everything.
That's it for now - I'll write more later.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Trippy!
I haven't had much access recently, so I've forgotten some of what's happened. Too bad.
But I do remember that I was going to write about two things.
The first, I went to a nice restaurant with my boss, Eva, and all the teachers' assistants. Have you all heard of okinomiyaki? If you thought that sounded Japanese, you'd be right. It is. Another thing it is, is very good.
The way it works is like this: you order something. The waiter brings you a big bowl full of whatever you ordered. There's a grill in the middle of the table - you can cook the food yourself if you want, or the waiter can do it. Either way, whatever you ordered doesn't really matter - it ends up looking and tasting almost exactly the same, whatever it was. The only difference is in the toppings. oh! I'd better explain some more.
So you cook it, right? But you cook it up in a circle shape. And you flip it over. When it's done, you cut it up into slices, so that it looks very much like a pizza - thus its sometimes name, "japanese pizza". If you'd like some pictures, or a much better explanation, you can find both here: http://greggman.com/japan/okonomiyaki/okonomiyaki.htm .
It's really good. However, the presentation of ours suffered a bit. Eva is the take-charge sort, and she's...spirited, I guess you might say. What she is not, is cautious. Anyway, she decided she would cook ours. It turned out being food, fortunately, but not pretty. It was a massacred heap of cooked stuff. It was still delicious.
Also at this restaurant we ordered "monjayaki." Those of you who cook, you know how the edges of the food sometimes get just a little brown and crispy and delicious? Think of an entire meal like that. So good.
Here's how it works: there is a bowl of soupy stuff. The bowl is poured out on the grill, and you stir it around a little bit. Then you are given a ridiculously tiny spatula - big enough maybe to belong to a mouse - and with that spatula, you scrape the food off the grill. It's all just slightly brown and crispy, and it takes forever to eat it all, because you just have a tiny metal spatula. It's well worth it, though. Eat it sometime!
It's kind of hard to write right now. I'm not really in the mood. Just not feeling very creative. Ah, if only I could've written this morning! Oh well.
So, I continue.
The trip I wanted to talk about was to a place called "Alishan." Or Mt. Ali. Whatever. This place is supposed to have a beautiful sunrise, so people often take trips to see that.
Several other teachers, and myself, decided we'd like to go see the mountain. And the sunrise, while we're there.
Jana, one of the teachers here (and who I have to admit liking quite a bit, even though she is a filthy Canadian), is staying with a host family that owns a hotel (oh, if you've seen my pictures, she's in one or two of them). They're kind enough to let us in free of charge. Not to sleep, of course, but there's a big room on the top floor that they let us use for hanging out. We agreed to meet there Friday after school (on the 11th?) whenever it was conveneient - and then leave at 1 AM.
Why so early?
Because it's a few hours away on twisty mountain roads. Oh, that's not a good explanation, is it? Well, if you leave too early, you have to stay the night at the one hotel in the area, which you do not want to do if your funds are limited. If you leave much later than that, you won't see the sunrise. Simple. You also can't get to the top of the mountain unless you hike, which is not good in an unfamiliar, unlit mountainous area; or you take the train, which doesn't start running until maybe 3 AM.
I don't remember what I did that evening, but I didn't get to the hotel until maybe 9:30. Oh, wait - I took a short nap (being a teacher can be exhausting). So I met most of the other people there, and we all had fun sitting around being goofy, as only sleep deprivation and boredom can inspire. There was a Mac, and it had a built-in camera with all kinds of neat little options (mirroring the image in the middle, fishbowl effects, etc.) We couldn't let that sort of awesome power go to waste, so we made many, many silly pictures. And watched bad Chinese tv.
The last member of our group had us worried. Celia (that's her name, and boy does she have it rough - she's Jewish, and I'm almost certain it's impossible to avoid pork products (not to mention unclean seafood) in the food here) has rented a scooter for the duration of her stay, and she said she'd just drive over and meet us before we left.
At 12:40, we were starting to get a little concerned. She wasn't with us.
We called her, and she said she'd be there soon.
But soon came and went, and Celia did not.
We called again, and, as I'm sure you expected, the poor girl was lost.
Things weren't that dire, though - our hotel is right by the train station, and it's easy to find. So Celia was quickly directed in the right way, and we met her at maybe 1:10 AM.
We called the cabs, told them we wanted to go to Alishan, and then went downstairs. The cabs came in only maybe two or three minutes. We were ready to go, but several members of our group were still upstairs. We waited on them. After about ten minutes of waiting the cabbies were getting impatient, and they had to move their cars so they weren't blocking the street anymore (everyone just parks in the street here if they're going to be quick); like cabbies anywhere, they didn't like being kept waiting. Another ten minutes passed before the rest of our group came down. They apparently didn't know we were ready to go.
We were just about to get in our cars when the cabbies began speaking. That is never a good sign, if you're still outside the car.
Important note: this is right after several typhoons had passed by.
It turns out the cabbies couldn't take us to Alishan after all, because a bridge on the way up the mountain had been covered by a rockslide.
We sort of believed them, and they left.
One teacher and her homestay girl left, disappointed at the way things had turned out.
The rest of us began arguing amongst ourselves, and decided we were being fed a fairly lously lie. The cabbies hadn't been on the phone or anything, and, if they'd known before that the road was out, why didn't they say so in the first place? So we called the same company again, and asked if the road to Alishan was still out. They told us to wait while they checked. Not two minutes later, they called back and told us the rockslide had been cleared. Keep in mind this is almost 2 AM - I sort of doubt any construction crews were out clearing rocks in the mountains at that time of night.
The cabs arrived, and finally we were on our way.
Of course, that's not the end of the drama. It's never over till the fat lady sings, right? And we didn't have any fat ladies.
As I mentioned before, the road up to the mountains winds a lot. It also gains an incredible amount of altitude in a very short time - I think almost 2 miles' worth in something like 20 miles of straight-line distance. I did not think of carsickness, because I never get carsickness. Unfortunately, no one else thought of that either - and we had one girl in each car get very sick. We had to make frequent stops on our way up so our sick people could get some fresh air and experience normal movement.
I enjoyed doing it that way. Not that I was enjoying their suffering: no, it gave me a chance to enjoy the mountain air, and the clear night sky, and to see a little of the moonlit land. And we still made good time, too - remember, these are cabbies we're talking about. And there was no one else on the road. I must also admit I occasionally thought we might die, but it turned out well. And our driver was really friendly and good-natured - not at all like the other guys we'd had earlier.
We finally arrived about 4 AM. We waited in line for for about 20 minutes so we could buy tickets for the train to the top. And we arrived at the mountaintop about 5:15 aM - just as the sun was rising. We would've missed it, and I was certain we would, but I forgot something important about mountains - they are tall. And tall things block the sun. So the sunrise didn't happen for a little while longer.
I was glad for that. Happiness is always temporary, though. As soon as we made our way to the top - to the observation platform - we found ourselves in a horde of people. Only I was tall enough to see much of anything, and I wasn't enjoying the view much. It would've been nice but for the crowd, and the crazy man walking on the safety wall. Well, he wasn't just walking - that'd be easy to ignore. No, he had a megaphone, and enjoyed hearing himself scream. I think he was a tour guide/barker - he kept saying things about buying this and that. So that was the perfect way to ruin a beautiful sunrise, I thought.
I was a little pissed off. My group was disappointed. We'd gone through a lot of trouble and misery to get here, and now the whole thing was pointlessly ordinary.
Just at that moment, a girl appeared. Why? I don't know. But we started talking to her, and she told us to follow. So we did. She led us up the mountain further, and it turns out there's another viewing area, less crowded, and with a less annoying huckster. It was perfect (by local standards - heh), and we got lots of pictures. Or at least, those with cameras did. And I got pictures on other people's cameras which I hope to someday have access to.
After that we decided to walk down the mountain. It was beautiful - there were massive stumps overgrown with moss, and a forest grown up around them. It had all been cleared out during the Japanese occupation, and been restored since.
I'm running out of time.
The rest of my group (with the exception of myself and a teacher's assistant by the name of Connie) was exhausted, and I think I annoyed them the whole way down the mountain. I would point at something and say, "that'd make a really good photo". They would grunt. But I enjoyed myself anyway. I have to go back sometime with a camera and a few days to spare - it's going to take me a long time to take all the photos I want.
Alishan is also the first place in Taiwan where I've enjoyed the weather - it was probably around 50 degrees. Awesome. No one else thought so; they were complaining of the cold. But I thought it was awesome.
That's all the time I've got for the moment, so that's where I'll have to end. I'll revise this when I have a moment.
I hope I'll have more time to write soon - there's plenty to say.
Bye for now!
But I do remember that I was going to write about two things.
The first, I went to a nice restaurant with my boss, Eva, and all the teachers' assistants. Have you all heard of okinomiyaki? If you thought that sounded Japanese, you'd be right. It is. Another thing it is, is very good.
The way it works is like this: you order something. The waiter brings you a big bowl full of whatever you ordered. There's a grill in the middle of the table - you can cook the food yourself if you want, or the waiter can do it. Either way, whatever you ordered doesn't really matter - it ends up looking and tasting almost exactly the same, whatever it was. The only difference is in the toppings. oh! I'd better explain some more.
So you cook it, right? But you cook it up in a circle shape. And you flip it over. When it's done, you cut it up into slices, so that it looks very much like a pizza - thus its sometimes name, "japanese pizza". If you'd like some pictures, or a much better explanation, you can find both here: http://greggman.com/japan/okonomiyaki/okonomiyaki.htm .
It's really good. However, the presentation of ours suffered a bit. Eva is the take-charge sort, and she's...spirited, I guess you might say. What she is not, is cautious. Anyway, she decided she would cook ours. It turned out being food, fortunately, but not pretty. It was a massacred heap of cooked stuff. It was still delicious.
Also at this restaurant we ordered "monjayaki." Those of you who cook, you know how the edges of the food sometimes get just a little brown and crispy and delicious? Think of an entire meal like that. So good.
Here's how it works: there is a bowl of soupy stuff. The bowl is poured out on the grill, and you stir it around a little bit. Then you are given a ridiculously tiny spatula - big enough maybe to belong to a mouse - and with that spatula, you scrape the food off the grill. It's all just slightly brown and crispy, and it takes forever to eat it all, because you just have a tiny metal spatula. It's well worth it, though. Eat it sometime!
It's kind of hard to write right now. I'm not really in the mood. Just not feeling very creative. Ah, if only I could've written this morning! Oh well.
So, I continue.
The trip I wanted to talk about was to a place called "Alishan." Or Mt. Ali. Whatever. This place is supposed to have a beautiful sunrise, so people often take trips to see that.
Several other teachers, and myself, decided we'd like to go see the mountain. And the sunrise, while we're there.
Jana, one of the teachers here (and who I have to admit liking quite a bit, even though she is a filthy Canadian), is staying with a host family that owns a hotel (oh, if you've seen my pictures, she's in one or two of them). They're kind enough to let us in free of charge. Not to sleep, of course, but there's a big room on the top floor that they let us use for hanging out. We agreed to meet there Friday after school (on the 11th?) whenever it was conveneient - and then leave at 1 AM.
Why so early?
Because it's a few hours away on twisty mountain roads. Oh, that's not a good explanation, is it? Well, if you leave too early, you have to stay the night at the one hotel in the area, which you do not want to do if your funds are limited. If you leave much later than that, you won't see the sunrise. Simple. You also can't get to the top of the mountain unless you hike, which is not good in an unfamiliar, unlit mountainous area; or you take the train, which doesn't start running until maybe 3 AM.
I don't remember what I did that evening, but I didn't get to the hotel until maybe 9:30. Oh, wait - I took a short nap (being a teacher can be exhausting). So I met most of the other people there, and we all had fun sitting around being goofy, as only sleep deprivation and boredom can inspire. There was a Mac, and it had a built-in camera with all kinds of neat little options (mirroring the image in the middle, fishbowl effects, etc.) We couldn't let that sort of awesome power go to waste, so we made many, many silly pictures. And watched bad Chinese tv.
The last member of our group had us worried. Celia (that's her name, and boy does she have it rough - she's Jewish, and I'm almost certain it's impossible to avoid pork products (not to mention unclean seafood) in the food here) has rented a scooter for the duration of her stay, and she said she'd just drive over and meet us before we left.
At 12:40, we were starting to get a little concerned. She wasn't with us.
We called her, and she said she'd be there soon.
But soon came and went, and Celia did not.
We called again, and, as I'm sure you expected, the poor girl was lost.
Things weren't that dire, though - our hotel is right by the train station, and it's easy to find. So Celia was quickly directed in the right way, and we met her at maybe 1:10 AM.
We called the cabs, told them we wanted to go to Alishan, and then went downstairs. The cabs came in only maybe two or three minutes. We were ready to go, but several members of our group were still upstairs. We waited on them. After about ten minutes of waiting the cabbies were getting impatient, and they had to move their cars so they weren't blocking the street anymore (everyone just parks in the street here if they're going to be quick); like cabbies anywhere, they didn't like being kept waiting. Another ten minutes passed before the rest of our group came down. They apparently didn't know we were ready to go.
We were just about to get in our cars when the cabbies began speaking. That is never a good sign, if you're still outside the car.
Important note: this is right after several typhoons had passed by.
It turns out the cabbies couldn't take us to Alishan after all, because a bridge on the way up the mountain had been covered by a rockslide.
We sort of believed them, and they left.
One teacher and her homestay girl left, disappointed at the way things had turned out.
The rest of us began arguing amongst ourselves, and decided we were being fed a fairly lously lie. The cabbies hadn't been on the phone or anything, and, if they'd known before that the road was out, why didn't they say so in the first place? So we called the same company again, and asked if the road to Alishan was still out. They told us to wait while they checked. Not two minutes later, they called back and told us the rockslide had been cleared. Keep in mind this is almost 2 AM - I sort of doubt any construction crews were out clearing rocks in the mountains at that time of night.
The cabs arrived, and finally we were on our way.
Of course, that's not the end of the drama. It's never over till the fat lady sings, right? And we didn't have any fat ladies.
As I mentioned before, the road up to the mountains winds a lot. It also gains an incredible amount of altitude in a very short time - I think almost 2 miles' worth in something like 20 miles of straight-line distance. I did not think of carsickness, because I never get carsickness. Unfortunately, no one else thought of that either - and we had one girl in each car get very sick. We had to make frequent stops on our way up so our sick people could get some fresh air and experience normal movement.
I enjoyed doing it that way. Not that I was enjoying their suffering: no, it gave me a chance to enjoy the mountain air, and the clear night sky, and to see a little of the moonlit land. And we still made good time, too - remember, these are cabbies we're talking about. And there was no one else on the road. I must also admit I occasionally thought we might die, but it turned out well. And our driver was really friendly and good-natured - not at all like the other guys we'd had earlier.
We finally arrived about 4 AM. We waited in line for for about 20 minutes so we could buy tickets for the train to the top. And we arrived at the mountaintop about 5:15 aM - just as the sun was rising. We would've missed it, and I was certain we would, but I forgot something important about mountains - they are tall. And tall things block the sun. So the sunrise didn't happen for a little while longer.
I was glad for that. Happiness is always temporary, though. As soon as we made our way to the top - to the observation platform - we found ourselves in a horde of people. Only I was tall enough to see much of anything, and I wasn't enjoying the view much. It would've been nice but for the crowd, and the crazy man walking on the safety wall. Well, he wasn't just walking - that'd be easy to ignore. No, he had a megaphone, and enjoyed hearing himself scream. I think he was a tour guide/barker - he kept saying things about buying this and that. So that was the perfect way to ruin a beautiful sunrise, I thought.
I was a little pissed off. My group was disappointed. We'd gone through a lot of trouble and misery to get here, and now the whole thing was pointlessly ordinary.
Just at that moment, a girl appeared. Why? I don't know. But we started talking to her, and she told us to follow. So we did. She led us up the mountain further, and it turns out there's another viewing area, less crowded, and with a less annoying huckster. It was perfect (by local standards - heh), and we got lots of pictures. Or at least, those with cameras did. And I got pictures on other people's cameras which I hope to someday have access to.
After that we decided to walk down the mountain. It was beautiful - there were massive stumps overgrown with moss, and a forest grown up around them. It had all been cleared out during the Japanese occupation, and been restored since.
I'm running out of time.
The rest of my group (with the exception of myself and a teacher's assistant by the name of Connie) was exhausted, and I think I annoyed them the whole way down the mountain. I would point at something and say, "that'd make a really good photo". They would grunt. But I enjoyed myself anyway. I have to go back sometime with a camera and a few days to spare - it's going to take me a long time to take all the photos I want.
Alishan is also the first place in Taiwan where I've enjoyed the weather - it was probably around 50 degrees. Awesome. No one else thought so; they were complaining of the cold. But I thought it was awesome.
That's all the time I've got for the moment, so that's where I'll have to end. I'll revise this when I have a moment.
I hope I'll have more time to write soon - there's plenty to say.
Bye for now!
Friday, August 04, 2006
More Learning
I wanted to start by saying - never learn English in a foreign country. Most people don't have much choice, though, which is very unfortunate.
After a while, you stop noticing the mangling of your native language. Signs that you might have laughed at before barely catch your interest. Only the exceptionally bad, or the unintentionally hilarious, will be noticable. I would give you an example, but I've been making a conscious effort not to remember the horrifically bad signs I've seen, for fear that it'll degrade my English even further than the destitute state it already is in. It's like being poor, but knowing that you could be living in India, scheming about chopping off your children's arms so they'll be better beggars.
Hmm. That was kind of ghastly. So....
This morning I was riding the bus to school, like every day. It traveled the same route, like every day. Today, though, I was sitting (a rarity) by the window. I just chanced to turn my head at a sign I hadn't noticed before - it read, "Just do eat." For the first split-second, I thought nothing of the artwork below, a piece of bread, and assumed it was just one more atrocity committed against my favorite (and admittedly only) language. Then I really noticed the shape of the bread. It was the Nike swoosh. On a bakery. "Just do eat", right? It's far too clever a use of English to fit in here, so I might have to stop by that shop and see how that happened. Maybe they could change it to "Just Dough Eat" - do you think so? That'd probably be too much. Even in America.
Anyway, as I ended my last post, I was worrying about God's having a sense of humor. I woke up the very next morning, thinking of ways to re-write my post (like usual, I was unhappy with it as it was (and as it is)), and dragged my way through my morning preparations. I was running late, and, what's worse, I needed to copy some music I'd downloaded the night before for a class on Western music. So I was rushing around. And let me say now, yes, God does possess an a keen sense of the comical. I'd said I'd like something differently painful to keep me humble.
Ask and ye shall receive.
It's not really important that you know this, unless you come here, but there are almost no dishwashers in Taiwan. Instead, people wash dishes by hand. Then they put them in this sissified wanna-be oven that hangs over the sink, where they drip dry (no one has ever used the heater feature, so far as I know). The important thing to note, however, is that there is a door that, when open, sticks straight out. And it's directly at eye-level. My eye level, anyway.
So here I was, rushing. I went to the kitchen to clean my dishes, quickly. And, as my foreshadowing has almost certainly clued you in, I had good reason to notice that open metal door - I slammed my face into the corner of it. As foreshadowing also revealed, it hit right at eye-level. Very hard.
For that first surprising instant, I thought I might have just blinded myself. It would fit my pattern of getting stupid, and somewhat embarassing, injuries, but actually it hit a whole third of an inch below eye level.
So I was not blinded! It did get my attention, though. And some of my skin. In return for my attention and some skin (I do have some instinct for business, after all), I got a bruise and an inch and a half long bloody line at a 45 degree angle from my eye. So, yet another thing to keep me humble - I am still clumsy and pathetically frail. Just as a side note, I am constantly surprised that we aren't all dead - by all rights, as easy as it is to die or be badly injured, we should be. Of course, being constantly surprised may also be a sign of idiocy, so the situation might not be as mysterious as I think it is.
I've been walking around with that injury since Wednesday, I think. The students and other teachers all tell me it looks kind of cool, though, so I guess it's not a total loss.
Of course my narrative doesn't end there. No. That would be too easy. And God has only had all of eternity to work on amusing situations (I asked if he would kindly stop burning me, which has actually happened...of course, I'm also taking some steps to avoid that). Now, lest you think he is unneccessarily malicious, remember that I did tell him I was getting kind of arrogant, and needed a little help.
As I mentioned at the terminal end of my last blog, though the sun had gone down, the curtain hadn't fallen on my evening - yet. After the ending that's written, I went to a mall to meet some of my students. They 'forced' me to go to an arcade, and even paid for me to play some games (thank you all, if you're reading this), so I retaliated by losing. A lot. Well, except at air hockey. No one could withstand my mighty airynes. heh. Well, I also played this punching game. You wear a boxing glove. A thing comes up, slowly, and then you punch it. Pretty easy to understand. If you read Chinese. I thought I was supposed to punch that sucker first chance I got, like you would in a real fight, but that's apparently not how it works. You're supposed to wait for it to get completely vertical, then punch it, which really is stupid. Ah, well. Anyway, after the first two quick jabs, my students told me I was supposed to wait. So I did, and clobbered that inanimate metal rod real good. I guess I won. I'm still not clear on if/whether you can win, since the game ended right after that.
I was enjoying myself, except for the sunburn, and except for being exhausted. After some time spent at the mall, we went next door, to the nightmarket. Like most nightmarkets, it was crowded, noisy, and chock-full of goods of questionable value and desirability. And food. There's always food.
My students kept paying for me to do all sorts of things (and I did try to pay for myself, or pay them back, but was only successful on one or two occasions when they weren't looking), most of which were fun. Of course, we also ate a whole lot of food. (And I learned that "yubyubyub", which sounds as hilarious as it looks, means (maybe) something like "sound you make for eating food with chopsticks when you're stabbing the food and you're really hungry.")
I guess they were concerned I wasn't having fun, but I really was. It's just that I was burned, tired, and couldn't hear anything they were saying (nightmarkets are noisy).
On Monday, when we met again (this is going somewhere), they told me they wanted to take me and some other teachers to dinner on Wednesday. I agreed, of course.
It was Korean, and it was good. In Taiwan, though, it is very difficult to get enough water, especially at restaurants. And I ate the food of several people who couldn't finish their own. So I didn't get enough to drink. I thought it'd be no problem. I'd just get some water at home. Then it was decided we'd go to get pictures at a photo booth.
If you've never seen one, think of it like this - there is an incredibly tacky, and loud, plastic and metal tent/box, which you go inside of. The inside has all sorts of flashing lights, pink frilly...things?, and at least one camera lens and touch-screen.
People here tend to be somewhat shy and reserved. If you were to somehow enter Taiwan through a magical photo booth, however, you would not believe me. Everyone is expected - no, required - to make a fool of themselves. Different poses are struck, and the more ridiculous the better. The photos are also taken at somewhat random intervals (you usually don't control it directly), and you have to last through at least 10 or so. At the end you go to a central terminal, review your photos, pick the best ones, then desecrate them with lots of bubbly/frilly/fancy pink/orange/pastel/girly colors, and hugely inappropriate phrases like "kind love". Then you print them out as stickers so small no one would ever know what's supposed to be happening in the picture.
Oh - I didn't mention that this all happens inside a vinyl tent thing, did I? With no ventilation? And lots of people crowded inside? In a building open to the air? You might have guessed - it gets warm. So I'm thinking, why pay for a sauna when you can use a photo booth instead? You even get pictures out of it.
So we were there an hour and a half or so. I still hadn't had enough to drink. It was only towards the end that I realized I was badly dehydrated. And by then it was too late, of course.
So all of yesterday I spent in misery - with burning throat, aching head, and the occasional overwhelming urge to empty my guts through the proper channels (or proper channel, I suppose) because I'd gotten dehydrated. I should also mention that bathrooms here come with neither toilet paper nor soap, so if you don't have quite enough of your own, things are...uncomfortable.
I still taught, of course.
I have to say it's hard to think very highly of yourself when you're afraid you'll crap your pants.
So, moral of the story: God sure does listen. Ask and ye shall receive.
Oh, and I've recovered now.
I'll write more later, how about that? For now, though -
Well, for now, I wish I had a clever ending line, a tagline that would make you say, "wow". But I don't.
Bye!
After a while, you stop noticing the mangling of your native language. Signs that you might have laughed at before barely catch your interest. Only the exceptionally bad, or the unintentionally hilarious, will be noticable. I would give you an example, but I've been making a conscious effort not to remember the horrifically bad signs I've seen, for fear that it'll degrade my English even further than the destitute state it already is in. It's like being poor, but knowing that you could be living in India, scheming about chopping off your children's arms so they'll be better beggars.
Hmm. That was kind of ghastly. So....
This morning I was riding the bus to school, like every day. It traveled the same route, like every day. Today, though, I was sitting (a rarity) by the window. I just chanced to turn my head at a sign I hadn't noticed before - it read, "Just do eat." For the first split-second, I thought nothing of the artwork below, a piece of bread, and assumed it was just one more atrocity committed against my favorite (and admittedly only) language. Then I really noticed the shape of the bread. It was the Nike swoosh. On a bakery. "Just do eat", right? It's far too clever a use of English to fit in here, so I might have to stop by that shop and see how that happened. Maybe they could change it to "Just Dough Eat" - do you think so? That'd probably be too much. Even in America.
Anyway, as I ended my last post, I was worrying about God's having a sense of humor. I woke up the very next morning, thinking of ways to re-write my post (like usual, I was unhappy with it as it was (and as it is)), and dragged my way through my morning preparations. I was running late, and, what's worse, I needed to copy some music I'd downloaded the night before for a class on Western music. So I was rushing around. And let me say now, yes, God does possess an a keen sense of the comical. I'd said I'd like something differently painful to keep me humble.
Ask and ye shall receive.
It's not really important that you know this, unless you come here, but there are almost no dishwashers in Taiwan. Instead, people wash dishes by hand. Then they put them in this sissified wanna-be oven that hangs over the sink, where they drip dry (no one has ever used the heater feature, so far as I know). The important thing to note, however, is that there is a door that, when open, sticks straight out. And it's directly at eye-level. My eye level, anyway.
So here I was, rushing. I went to the kitchen to clean my dishes, quickly. And, as my foreshadowing has almost certainly clued you in, I had good reason to notice that open metal door - I slammed my face into the corner of it. As foreshadowing also revealed, it hit right at eye-level. Very hard.
For that first surprising instant, I thought I might have just blinded myself. It would fit my pattern of getting stupid, and somewhat embarassing, injuries, but actually it hit a whole third of an inch below eye level.
So I was not blinded! It did get my attention, though. And some of my skin. In return for my attention and some skin (I do have some instinct for business, after all), I got a bruise and an inch and a half long bloody line at a 45 degree angle from my eye. So, yet another thing to keep me humble - I am still clumsy and pathetically frail. Just as a side note, I am constantly surprised that we aren't all dead - by all rights, as easy as it is to die or be badly injured, we should be. Of course, being constantly surprised may also be a sign of idiocy, so the situation might not be as mysterious as I think it is.
I've been walking around with that injury since Wednesday, I think. The students and other teachers all tell me it looks kind of cool, though, so I guess it's not a total loss.
Of course my narrative doesn't end there. No. That would be too easy. And God has only had all of eternity to work on amusing situations (I asked if he would kindly stop burning me, which has actually happened...of course, I'm also taking some steps to avoid that). Now, lest you think he is unneccessarily malicious, remember that I did tell him I was getting kind of arrogant, and needed a little help.
As I mentioned at the terminal end of my last blog, though the sun had gone down, the curtain hadn't fallen on my evening - yet. After the ending that's written, I went to a mall to meet some of my students. They 'forced' me to go to an arcade, and even paid for me to play some games (thank you all, if you're reading this), so I retaliated by losing. A lot. Well, except at air hockey. No one could withstand my mighty airynes. heh. Well, I also played this punching game. You wear a boxing glove. A thing comes up, slowly, and then you punch it. Pretty easy to understand. If you read Chinese. I thought I was supposed to punch that sucker first chance I got, like you would in a real fight, but that's apparently not how it works. You're supposed to wait for it to get completely vertical, then punch it, which really is stupid. Ah, well. Anyway, after the first two quick jabs, my students told me I was supposed to wait. So I did, and clobbered that inanimate metal rod real good. I guess I won. I'm still not clear on if/whether you can win, since the game ended right after that.
I was enjoying myself, except for the sunburn, and except for being exhausted. After some time spent at the mall, we went next door, to the nightmarket. Like most nightmarkets, it was crowded, noisy, and chock-full of goods of questionable value and desirability. And food. There's always food.
My students kept paying for me to do all sorts of things (and I did try to pay for myself, or pay them back, but was only successful on one or two occasions when they weren't looking), most of which were fun. Of course, we also ate a whole lot of food. (And I learned that "yubyubyub", which sounds as hilarious as it looks, means (maybe) something like "sound you make for eating food with chopsticks when you're stabbing the food and you're really hungry.")
I guess they were concerned I wasn't having fun, but I really was. It's just that I was burned, tired, and couldn't hear anything they were saying (nightmarkets are noisy).
On Monday, when we met again (this is going somewhere), they told me they wanted to take me and some other teachers to dinner on Wednesday. I agreed, of course.
It was Korean, and it was good. In Taiwan, though, it is very difficult to get enough water, especially at restaurants. And I ate the food of several people who couldn't finish their own. So I didn't get enough to drink. I thought it'd be no problem. I'd just get some water at home. Then it was decided we'd go to get pictures at a photo booth.
If you've never seen one, think of it like this - there is an incredibly tacky, and loud, plastic and metal tent/box, which you go inside of. The inside has all sorts of flashing lights, pink frilly...things?, and at least one camera lens and touch-screen.
People here tend to be somewhat shy and reserved. If you were to somehow enter Taiwan through a magical photo booth, however, you would not believe me. Everyone is expected - no, required - to make a fool of themselves. Different poses are struck, and the more ridiculous the better. The photos are also taken at somewhat random intervals (you usually don't control it directly), and you have to last through at least 10 or so. At the end you go to a central terminal, review your photos, pick the best ones, then desecrate them with lots of bubbly/frilly/fancy pink/orange/pastel/girly colors, and hugely inappropriate phrases like "kind love". Then you print them out as stickers so small no one would ever know what's supposed to be happening in the picture.
Oh - I didn't mention that this all happens inside a vinyl tent thing, did I? With no ventilation? And lots of people crowded inside? In a building open to the air? You might have guessed - it gets warm. So I'm thinking, why pay for a sauna when you can use a photo booth instead? You even get pictures out of it.
So we were there an hour and a half or so. I still hadn't had enough to drink. It was only towards the end that I realized I was badly dehydrated. And by then it was too late, of course.
So all of yesterday I spent in misery - with burning throat, aching head, and the occasional overwhelming urge to empty my guts through the proper channels (or proper channel, I suppose) because I'd gotten dehydrated. I should also mention that bathrooms here come with neither toilet paper nor soap, so if you don't have quite enough of your own, things are...uncomfortable.
I still taught, of course.
I have to say it's hard to think very highly of yourself when you're afraid you'll crap your pants.
So, moral of the story: God sure does listen. Ask and ye shall receive.
Oh, and I've recovered now.
I'll write more later, how about that? For now, though -
Well, for now, I wish I had a clever ending line, a tagline that would make you say, "wow". But I don't.
Bye!
Monday, July 31, 2006
A little lesson
One strange thing about Taiwan is that, as a foreigner, you have a status just slightly below that of a rockstar, and quite high above that of President (though that isn't terribly hard right now, as no one here appears to like President Chen). As I'm sure you can imagine, this begins to influence the way one thinks.
Just being foreign, for example, is enough to get even the prettiest girls interested in you. This is probably true most places; here, though, even having a lousy personality and no personal grooming ability isn't enough to scare them away. Seriously. (Those of you who have lousy personalities and no personal hygiene, please don't take that as an invitation. Not that anyone reading this fits that description. You're all lovely people, of course. I'm just typing this for posterity, in case anyone fitting that description should ever read this.)
Schoolchildren look up to you, too - simply because you are foreign. And adults are often glad to have foreigners show up in their shops or houses, and will offer you things free of charge.
And then there's the fact that I am so much bigger (and possibly stronger?) than a lot of the people here, and the fact that I will be attending NTU (their most presitigous university) ...so I usually am admired and complimented. Oh, and I guess saying some of your favorite things to do are "read and write" are hugely impressive to people here.
I realized several times that I needed some humbling, and, it turns out, "ask and you shall recieve" is more than a saying.
Last week, for example, I walked out of the World Passport Office, looking for food. This is a short digression, by the way, but it is going somewhere (and ending in Taiwan...heh). On my way, I saw the girl at the coffeeshop, Mimi, and decided to ask her what's good to eat. She couldn't decide what to tell me, so she passed the problem on to her boss. He doesn't speak English. Nonetheless, he decided he would personally walk me over to a shop with good food and order it for me. Keep in mind, this is during working hours. He was willing to just walk off and help someone he barely knew. Obviously I appreciated that.
Anyway, he was able to communicate to me that a couple things were good at this food stand, so I agreed to order them. One was a dish with lamb or goat, I'm not exactly sure, and the other was some sort of soup.
He then took me back to his coffeeshop (which is called Magic Coffee (I like the name)...oh, and he also owns the internet cafe next door, which is very large and prosperous - and he's a year older than me. Grr.), and offered me a seat. Then he brought me a free drink, which was as excellent as it was mystifying. It was icy-cold tea with some minty and citrus-y flavors.
So I was sitting there reflecting on how much like infants we all are here - we can't speak, or do anything for ourselves, and must rely totally on the kindness of strangers (who are admittedly very kind). I admit, my Chinese probably even sounds infantile. I ate some of my food, then decided I'd try my soup. Now, you need to know soup works differently here: it does not come in a soup bowl. Instead you are given soup in a plastic bag, and you then can pour it into the soup bowl you are also given, all at your convenience. It seems it would be more convenient just to have it in the bowl to start with, but, I am just a guest here.
Foreshadowing aside, I decided to introduce the soup into the bowl that it was so obviously destined to meet. I decided they wouldn't give me more soup than they would bowl, as that would be silly, and would be totally impossible, as the two were so obviously designed for each other.
I was wrong, of course. I was also a little hasty in pouring: I poured it all at once.
Fortunately, I managed to spare my shirt. Unfortunately, I did so at the expense of my shorts...and the legs they covered with their admirably thin fabric. That thin fabric is very nice for keeping me cool - usually. It actually doesn't keep me cool against boiling soup, however.
It burned.
So here I am, thinking what infants we are, and then I dump scalding soup all over myself. So there I sat, with my lunch spilled all over myself. (Unlike an infant, though, I didn't cry about it - I didn't even make a noise. I calmly, but with some haste, tried to get the remaining liquid on the table to spill away from me).
So, God, thank you for reminding me that you do listen. Thankfulness is a little hard to muster when you've been soup-burned. heh. But, I was quite painfully reminded that I'm only human, and a rather careless one at that. I did need it.
(oh, and as an aside, I decided I might as well stay and finish my soup. It, and the food, were both very good, and I felt as though the soup put up a fair fight, so I had some satisfaction from that.)
But, you know me. Well, probably everyone else who's ever lived, too. I need reminders.
This last weekend, I was invited to see a bit of Jia Yi (the city I'm in - though for whatever reason, they spell it Chiai, or Chia yi) by my assistant, Shakira (she named herself), and some of my students.
So Shakira took me by scooter to a college campus nearby, and showed me around. It's a beautiful campus, surrounded be trees and water, very large, and up on a hill looking down on the city. I wish I had pictures. Shakira did offer to let me use her camera, but I knew exactly what would happen if I did borrow it - I'd have to spend at least another hour there photographing everything. And it was really hot out. And it mostly would've been pictures of trees. I've noticed I have a thing for trees. I don't think other people exactly share my passion, so I decided in the interest of not boring my gracious guide, and in not being out in the hot sun, that I should avoid the camera.
Anyway - after that, we drove to her great-grandmothers' house for her 95th birthday. She likes lots of company, I'm told, so she enjoyed having me there. And I'm also told she has never seen a foreigner in person, so she enjoyed that, too. And her memory is very bad, so it was probably a constant pleasant surprise seeing me there. Heh. Ok, that's probably a little disrespectful.
This is about a half-hour drive from the college campus. The college campus is about 20 minutes from the school we met at. And I was walking around the campus for about 45 minutes.
As I mentioned, you start thinking of yourself as being invincible here. So, though it would at home, it never occured to me that I was getting an awful lot of sun.
I should mention again that I was riding a scooter. They do not have roofs.
I should mention also, people here admire lily-white skin, which I usually posses.
Usually. At the moment, though, I have horrible burns on my knees. And my neck. And my face got a little burned, too.
But the knees are the worst.
I think I must have provided some entertainment for Shakira's family - when I arrived at their great-grandmother's house, they asked me why some of my skin was red. I looked, and sure enough, it was. It was then I realized it might have been a good idea to use sunscreen.
So I spent a few hours applying ice and aloe, which did help, like trying to calm a raging fire by making it do yoga. I think my idiotic misery probably was a pretty entertaining gift for the great-grandmother, though I doubt anyone would ever tell me so. (Shakira was also burned, but only on her arms; it still looked fairly painful.)
To make things worse, I did bring aspirin with me. If you take it right after you get burned, your burns will not become as serious, and they'll heal faster. I think. I say it made things worse, though, because I brought it with me...to Tainan. It is still in my other bag, which is still in...Tainan. And people here seem not to believe in taking the stuff. And the place Shakira and her family live is quite a ways away from anything (well, from stores, anyway. I'm pretty sure it's impossible to get more than 100 feet away from other people in this country).
So that was another humbling reminder of my humanity. heh. And quite painful.
The day didn't end there though, and neither did my misery (not to say my evening was unpleasant! It was enjoyable, except for the pain!). But, here this blog will end.
So, I am dedicating this particular entry to God: thank you. I know I've mostly done a fine job of hurting/humbling myself, but I can't help but feel you've influenced something, somewhere. If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to kindly ask you to please stop burning me. I get it. Well, the more obvious parts. I'm sure there are deeper levels of meaning that could be found. I know, burning sinners and prideful people and all that. If it's not too much trouble, I'd prefer something differently painful next time - I know there will be a next time (but you better than me, naturally). Variety's the spice of life and all that. Of course, you have a sense of humor, too, so you'll probably humor me, which terrifies me. Ah, well. I suppose that keeps things interesting.
Just being foreign, for example, is enough to get even the prettiest girls interested in you. This is probably true most places; here, though, even having a lousy personality and no personal grooming ability isn't enough to scare them away. Seriously. (Those of you who have lousy personalities and no personal hygiene, please don't take that as an invitation. Not that anyone reading this fits that description. You're all lovely people, of course. I'm just typing this for posterity, in case anyone fitting that description should ever read this.)
Schoolchildren look up to you, too - simply because you are foreign. And adults are often glad to have foreigners show up in their shops or houses, and will offer you things free of charge.
And then there's the fact that I am so much bigger (and possibly stronger?) than a lot of the people here, and the fact that I will be attending NTU (their most presitigous university) ...so I usually am admired and complimented. Oh, and I guess saying some of your favorite things to do are "read and write" are hugely impressive to people here.
I realized several times that I needed some humbling, and, it turns out, "ask and you shall recieve" is more than a saying.
Last week, for example, I walked out of the World Passport Office, looking for food. This is a short digression, by the way, but it is going somewhere (and ending in Taiwan...heh). On my way, I saw the girl at the coffeeshop, Mimi, and decided to ask her what's good to eat. She couldn't decide what to tell me, so she passed the problem on to her boss. He doesn't speak English. Nonetheless, he decided he would personally walk me over to a shop with good food and order it for me. Keep in mind, this is during working hours. He was willing to just walk off and help someone he barely knew. Obviously I appreciated that.
Anyway, he was able to communicate to me that a couple things were good at this food stand, so I agreed to order them. One was a dish with lamb or goat, I'm not exactly sure, and the other was some sort of soup.
He then took me back to his coffeeshop (which is called Magic Coffee (I like the name)...oh, and he also owns the internet cafe next door, which is very large and prosperous - and he's a year older than me. Grr.), and offered me a seat. Then he brought me a free drink, which was as excellent as it was mystifying. It was icy-cold tea with some minty and citrus-y flavors.
So I was sitting there reflecting on how much like infants we all are here - we can't speak, or do anything for ourselves, and must rely totally on the kindness of strangers (who are admittedly very kind). I admit, my Chinese probably even sounds infantile. I ate some of my food, then decided I'd try my soup. Now, you need to know soup works differently here: it does not come in a soup bowl. Instead you are given soup in a plastic bag, and you then can pour it into the soup bowl you are also given, all at your convenience. It seems it would be more convenient just to have it in the bowl to start with, but, I am just a guest here.
Foreshadowing aside, I decided to introduce the soup into the bowl that it was so obviously destined to meet. I decided they wouldn't give me more soup than they would bowl, as that would be silly, and would be totally impossible, as the two were so obviously designed for each other.
I was wrong, of course. I was also a little hasty in pouring: I poured it all at once.
Fortunately, I managed to spare my shirt. Unfortunately, I did so at the expense of my shorts...and the legs they covered with their admirably thin fabric. That thin fabric is very nice for keeping me cool - usually. It actually doesn't keep me cool against boiling soup, however.
It burned.
So here I am, thinking what infants we are, and then I dump scalding soup all over myself. So there I sat, with my lunch spilled all over myself. (Unlike an infant, though, I didn't cry about it - I didn't even make a noise. I calmly, but with some haste, tried to get the remaining liquid on the table to spill away from me).
So, God, thank you for reminding me that you do listen. Thankfulness is a little hard to muster when you've been soup-burned. heh. But, I was quite painfully reminded that I'm only human, and a rather careless one at that. I did need it.
(oh, and as an aside, I decided I might as well stay and finish my soup. It, and the food, were both very good, and I felt as though the soup put up a fair fight, so I had some satisfaction from that.)
But, you know me. Well, probably everyone else who's ever lived, too. I need reminders.
This last weekend, I was invited to see a bit of Jia Yi (the city I'm in - though for whatever reason, they spell it Chiai, or Chia yi) by my assistant, Shakira (she named herself), and some of my students.
So Shakira took me by scooter to a college campus nearby, and showed me around. It's a beautiful campus, surrounded be trees and water, very large, and up on a hill looking down on the city. I wish I had pictures. Shakira did offer to let me use her camera, but I knew exactly what would happen if I did borrow it - I'd have to spend at least another hour there photographing everything. And it was really hot out. And it mostly would've been pictures of trees. I've noticed I have a thing for trees. I don't think other people exactly share my passion, so I decided in the interest of not boring my gracious guide, and in not being out in the hot sun, that I should avoid the camera.
Anyway - after that, we drove to her great-grandmothers' house for her 95th birthday. She likes lots of company, I'm told, so she enjoyed having me there. And I'm also told she has never seen a foreigner in person, so she enjoyed that, too. And her memory is very bad, so it was probably a constant pleasant surprise seeing me there. Heh. Ok, that's probably a little disrespectful.
This is about a half-hour drive from the college campus. The college campus is about 20 minutes from the school we met at. And I was walking around the campus for about 45 minutes.
As I mentioned, you start thinking of yourself as being invincible here. So, though it would at home, it never occured to me that I was getting an awful lot of sun.
I should mention again that I was riding a scooter. They do not have roofs.
I should mention also, people here admire lily-white skin, which I usually posses.
Usually. At the moment, though, I have horrible burns on my knees. And my neck. And my face got a little burned, too.
But the knees are the worst.
I think I must have provided some entertainment for Shakira's family - when I arrived at their great-grandmother's house, they asked me why some of my skin was red. I looked, and sure enough, it was. It was then I realized it might have been a good idea to use sunscreen.
So I spent a few hours applying ice and aloe, which did help, like trying to calm a raging fire by making it do yoga. I think my idiotic misery probably was a pretty entertaining gift for the great-grandmother, though I doubt anyone would ever tell me so. (Shakira was also burned, but only on her arms; it still looked fairly painful.)
To make things worse, I did bring aspirin with me. If you take it right after you get burned, your burns will not become as serious, and they'll heal faster. I think. I say it made things worse, though, because I brought it with me...to Tainan. It is still in my other bag, which is still in...Tainan. And people here seem not to believe in taking the stuff. And the place Shakira and her family live is quite a ways away from anything (well, from stores, anyway. I'm pretty sure it's impossible to get more than 100 feet away from other people in this country).
So that was another humbling reminder of my humanity. heh. And quite painful.
The day didn't end there though, and neither did my misery (not to say my evening was unpleasant! It was enjoyable, except for the pain!). But, here this blog will end.
So, I am dedicating this particular entry to God: thank you. I know I've mostly done a fine job of hurting/humbling myself, but I can't help but feel you've influenced something, somewhere. If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to kindly ask you to please stop burning me. I get it. Well, the more obvious parts. I'm sure there are deeper levels of meaning that could be found. I know, burning sinners and prideful people and all that. If it's not too much trouble, I'd prefer something differently painful next time - I know there will be a next time (but you better than me, naturally). Variety's the spice of life and all that. Of course, you have a sense of humor, too, so you'll probably humor me, which terrifies me. Ah, well. I suppose that keeps things interesting.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Finally!
Another chance to write. I'd say blog, but I've never liked that word.
Let's see...I'm only a week behind in things I want to talk about.
Last week was my week off. Several schools cancelled on World Pasport, so there wasn't enough work for everyone. I taught the week before at a school, and then, though the program wasn't finished, I had to leave. Two other teachers, and me, had to trade places with three new teachers. And one of those teachers got my homestay family! But, that's alright. I like the teacher who took my place, and it was nice to be able to do my own thing a little. I definitely missed having my own room, though, and a nice family to talk to.
The last night I was with my last homestay family they took me and Diana, my replacement, to a nice restaurant. It was apparently supposed to be an American-style steak and seafood place. And they did have steak! So I got one. I think it was a t-bone...it had some sauce on it, and I probably could've cooked it a little better myself than the restaurant did, but it was still good. I hadn't thought I'd ever get a steak in Taiwan. This place also had salad, which is somewhat unusual.
What made me smile, though, is the bread section. Those of you who've known me a while know that I must have my tortured wheat (among other things, it is cut down, beaten, crushed, rolled, toasted, and baked...though not all for the same sorts of food). So I was happy to find a basket full of rolls and ordinary, almost sugarless, bread. There was a big toaster oven thing next to it (it looks like a popcorn popper), and pieces of warm wheatloaf in that (it's like meatloaf, only made with wheat...and yes, I did steal that one from the Internet). So, since I like toasted bread, and it was just sitting there, I took some. And it was good. So I went up for more: after I'd set it on my plate, a man approached me, and, with visible agitation and incomprehension, tried to tell me something in Chinese. My Chinese is terrible, as I've mentioned, so I quickly came to share his incomprehension. After a while, he lost interest in talking to me, since it was pretty obvious I had no idea what he was saying. It was only as he was leaving that I realized - like everything else in this country, you're expected to do this thing for yourself. You are supposed to pick your own spread for your rolls or bread, and then toast it yourself. So, I accidentally ate someone else's food. I wish they'd had something in English for that (the menu was in English, so it's not an unreasonable expectation). On the bright side, the bread was good. Thank you, mysterious butterer whose food I accidentally stole. Oh, and like I was going to say to start with - this is supposed to be a fairly nice restaurant. So I had to laugh to myself a little when I saw the choices of spreads for the bread: there was butter, which is totally expected; there was mustard, which was a little weird, but okay; and there was peanut butter. Now, unless things have changed drastically in the month I've been away, you just don't get peanut butter sandwiches at nice restaurants in America. heh. But you can here.
Anyway, the next day, I found myself back at the World Passport office...with only two other guys. Almost everyone else had left to explore the country. Well, there were two girls as well, but they were taking my place teaching, so they were gone most of the time. Oh - well, not everyone had left. There were still five or so people there besides those I mentioned.
Anyway, me, the two other guys, and one or two other people decided to go see a movie to relieve our boredom. We decided to see Superman at 4:00 PM, but things came up, and we didn't make it. Later on, me and the two other guys (Doug and Jordan, to make it easy...though I don't really like saying names) decided to go anyway. We got in the cab and asked the driver to take us to a theater. He didn't know where it was, or he didn't quite understand us, or something. So Doug and I both said, in unison, "Women yao kan dianying"...which is "We want to see a movie" (and no, it's not pronounced women - it's more like, "woah, man"). The cabie understood then, and took us to a different theater from what we wanted. But I didn't mind - the theater we ended up at was in a mall. I'd been wondering what those looked like here. And honestly, I still don't know, because this was no ordinary mall - it was a palace of commerce. It was shockingly white, and glossy, with huge pillars and tall ceilings - and it went up 9 floors. The movie theater takes up the top two or three.
So we bought tickets to Superman. The girls at the counter gave us what I've been calling the "Westerner's Discount." Now, in other countries, I might say that ironically, but you have to understand - there is no irony in Taiwan. At least, not very much. In other countries the locals would jack up the price for foreigners - but here, you will often get a small discount.
It probably also helped that we are all (ego warning) fairly attractive guys. Well, there was also no one at the theater, either, so that might've had something to do with it.
For those of you who haven't seen Superman, I should warn you, here is a spoiler: it sucks. A lot.
Oh - and in case you're wondering how I understood the movie - movies here are released in English, with Chinese subtitles. So that's nice.
Anyway, though the movie was really stupid, it was still something to do. And Jordan, though he agreed that it sucked, decided it was still pretty exciting because it was, after all, Superman. So he ran around the mall with his arms up, making "whooosh!" noises, and occasionally attempting to pick Doug or I up...and fly away with us. Fortunately, I am fairly heavy, and if I don't want to go somewhere, there's not a lot most people can do to make me. Doug was not so fortunate.
On our way out, Doug wanted to make a phone call to a girl he met, so he asked at the information desk for the nearest payphone. I should mention, Doug speaks Chinese fairly well (his parents are Chinese), but can't read. Anway, this precipitated a crisis of some sort, as the girl who was supposed to help us went running for assistance. Then followed a conference of three people for about fifteen minutes. Meanwhile, Jordan helped us by continuuing to run around making whoosh noises, still pretending to be Superman, and still attempting to pick Doug up. As you might imagine, it is hard for people to take you seriously if you're with someone who appears to be insane, or at best drunk.
Eventually the situation was sorted out - the girls at the counter decided that we could make a phone call across the street at a payphone. So we headed out, but then decided we didn't need the phone after all - it was almost 10:00, and the girl Doug wanted to meet was getting off work about then, so we decided we'd just meet her there.
I should mention now that Doug is an amorous, and, by the attention he gets, apparently very charming fellow.
We arrived at a little indoor shopping area after a brief cab ride. We went to the clothing store where this girl works (her English name is Gray - yes, like the color. It seems her Chinese name sounds exactly like the word for gray, so that's what everyone calls her in English), and, as we approached the counter, we thought there was another girl there. That illusion was dispelled, though, when Doug said 'he' would be coming along with us. We looked again, and sure enough, it was a guy.
We let them close the store, and then we had to wait a while for another cab to show up (taxis are very cheap here, by the way - at least, compared to America). We took one to a hot pot restaurant (in case you don't know, they bring you a bowl of soupy stuff with something like a camping stove under it, and you toss uncooked food into the boiling soup to cook it - it's fairly good), and ordered dinner. For whatever reason, this place also offered waffles. I hadn't seen any in Taiwan up to this point, and most people I asked about them hadn't heard of them. So, there were waffles.
We had a good dinner, and, as conversation revealed, Gray's companion didn't have an English name. We tried coming up with one, but most were bizarre, or a little insulting. We almost decided on Terrance, but then someone (maybe it was Doug?) said, "how about Merlin?" We all agreed this was a perfect name, and so we named him Merlin. If ever you meet a Chinese person with a really strange name, you now have insight into how that might happen.
Merlin really is a good name, though.
Anyway. As you might expect, Merlin was gay, but very nice. Dinner was going well. The meals at these hot pot places will often come with a raw egg, and so Jordan had to mention that if you put an egg in your hand and squeeze as hard as you can, it won't break. Jordan hadn't totally recovered from being Superman, though, so he decided to demonstrate. It turns out, as he demonstrated for us all, that it is in fact quite easy to smash an egg in your bare hand...you just have to flex your fingers a little. I already knew this, but it may have been a surprise to poor Gray - the egg's messy explosion surprised her, but the yolk's sloppy and discourteous landing on her shirt was probably a little more shocking. In fact, everyone had egg on them (yes, we all had egg on our face, I know you want to say it, but actually none of us did) except Jordan - well, with the exception of his hand, which the crushed egg was leaking out of - and you'd kind of expect egg to be there. So we all went to clean ourselves up, Jordan offered profuse and plentiful apologies, and Gray returned without her shirt.
Titillating!
heh. Or not. She was wearing another shirt under her shirt. Somehow, girls are able to get cold in this country. I envy them.
So she came back - and, though you might not believe it, she was willing to stay out with us a little longer. Good sign for Doug, right?
We paid for our meal (and our guests - we had to pay the outrageous sum of $400 NT apiece - which comes to about $12.50 per person. I know, that's an awesome deal by American standards, but by Taiwanese ones, it was pricey) walked to a bar, had a few drinks, and really didn't do much else that night. Fortunately, I said I would not pay for anything at the bar. Jordan and Doug insisted on buying me drinks, though, and they bought several for Gray and Merlin as well. The total bar tab? $2000 NT - a huge sum of money - but only a little over $60 USD. Not bad for a night of drinking for five people, right?
After that we all went home for the night.
I'd end this blog here, but I wanted to mention that Jordan never really recovered from his Superman stint. He wanted to get a "Superman haircut" the next day.
Oh - I was going to end it, but I guess our day didn't quite end there. When we three guys got back to the World Passport office at around 2 AM, we were informed that the remaining people (who weren't working) were leaving for Taipei - in two hours. We didn't feel like packing, and we don't make much money at this job - it's more of a volunteer thing, after all - so we didn't feel like we could really afford a week in Taipei after that night of spending. And you know how it is with packing - there's a psychological barrier there - you see the suitcase, and you know what should go in it, but you really don't want to put things in there. Especially not after a long day capped off by drinking. So, we went to sleep.
And that about wraps up one day. Last Monday. heh. Lucky thing I'm not going to write out all of the next days, right?
Let's see...I'm only a week behind in things I want to talk about.
Last week was my week off. Several schools cancelled on World Pasport, so there wasn't enough work for everyone. I taught the week before at a school, and then, though the program wasn't finished, I had to leave. Two other teachers, and me, had to trade places with three new teachers. And one of those teachers got my homestay family! But, that's alright. I like the teacher who took my place, and it was nice to be able to do my own thing a little. I definitely missed having my own room, though, and a nice family to talk to.
The last night I was with my last homestay family they took me and Diana, my replacement, to a nice restaurant. It was apparently supposed to be an American-style steak and seafood place. And they did have steak! So I got one. I think it was a t-bone...it had some sauce on it, and I probably could've cooked it a little better myself than the restaurant did, but it was still good. I hadn't thought I'd ever get a steak in Taiwan. This place also had salad, which is somewhat unusual.
What made me smile, though, is the bread section. Those of you who've known me a while know that I must have my tortured wheat (among other things, it is cut down, beaten, crushed, rolled, toasted, and baked...though not all for the same sorts of food). So I was happy to find a basket full of rolls and ordinary, almost sugarless, bread. There was a big toaster oven thing next to it (it looks like a popcorn popper), and pieces of warm wheatloaf in that (it's like meatloaf, only made with wheat...and yes, I did steal that one from the Internet). So, since I like toasted bread, and it was just sitting there, I took some. And it was good. So I went up for more: after I'd set it on my plate, a man approached me, and, with visible agitation and incomprehension, tried to tell me something in Chinese. My Chinese is terrible, as I've mentioned, so I quickly came to share his incomprehension. After a while, he lost interest in talking to me, since it was pretty obvious I had no idea what he was saying. It was only as he was leaving that I realized - like everything else in this country, you're expected to do this thing for yourself. You are supposed to pick your own spread for your rolls or bread, and then toast it yourself. So, I accidentally ate someone else's food. I wish they'd had something in English for that (the menu was in English, so it's not an unreasonable expectation). On the bright side, the bread was good. Thank you, mysterious butterer whose food I accidentally stole. Oh, and like I was going to say to start with - this is supposed to be a fairly nice restaurant. So I had to laugh to myself a little when I saw the choices of spreads for the bread: there was butter, which is totally expected; there was mustard, which was a little weird, but okay; and there was peanut butter. Now, unless things have changed drastically in the month I've been away, you just don't get peanut butter sandwiches at nice restaurants in America. heh. But you can here.
Anyway, the next day, I found myself back at the World Passport office...with only two other guys. Almost everyone else had left to explore the country. Well, there were two girls as well, but they were taking my place teaching, so they were gone most of the time. Oh - well, not everyone had left. There were still five or so people there besides those I mentioned.
Anyway, me, the two other guys, and one or two other people decided to go see a movie to relieve our boredom. We decided to see Superman at 4:00 PM, but things came up, and we didn't make it. Later on, me and the two other guys (Doug and Jordan, to make it easy...though I don't really like saying names) decided to go anyway. We got in the cab and asked the driver to take us to a theater. He didn't know where it was, or he didn't quite understand us, or something. So Doug and I both said, in unison, "Women yao kan dianying"...which is "We want to see a movie" (and no, it's not pronounced women - it's more like, "woah, man"). The cabie understood then, and took us to a different theater from what we wanted. But I didn't mind - the theater we ended up at was in a mall. I'd been wondering what those looked like here. And honestly, I still don't know, because this was no ordinary mall - it was a palace of commerce. It was shockingly white, and glossy, with huge pillars and tall ceilings - and it went up 9 floors. The movie theater takes up the top two or three.
So we bought tickets to Superman. The girls at the counter gave us what I've been calling the "Westerner's Discount." Now, in other countries, I might say that ironically, but you have to understand - there is no irony in Taiwan. At least, not very much. In other countries the locals would jack up the price for foreigners - but here, you will often get a small discount.
It probably also helped that we are all (ego warning) fairly attractive guys. Well, there was also no one at the theater, either, so that might've had something to do with it.
For those of you who haven't seen Superman, I should warn you, here is a spoiler: it sucks. A lot.
Oh - and in case you're wondering how I understood the movie - movies here are released in English, with Chinese subtitles. So that's nice.
Anyway, though the movie was really stupid, it was still something to do. And Jordan, though he agreed that it sucked, decided it was still pretty exciting because it was, after all, Superman. So he ran around the mall with his arms up, making "whooosh!" noises, and occasionally attempting to pick Doug or I up...and fly away with us. Fortunately, I am fairly heavy, and if I don't want to go somewhere, there's not a lot most people can do to make me. Doug was not so fortunate.
On our way out, Doug wanted to make a phone call to a girl he met, so he asked at the information desk for the nearest payphone. I should mention, Doug speaks Chinese fairly well (his parents are Chinese), but can't read. Anway, this precipitated a crisis of some sort, as the girl who was supposed to help us went running for assistance. Then followed a conference of three people for about fifteen minutes. Meanwhile, Jordan helped us by continuuing to run around making whoosh noises, still pretending to be Superman, and still attempting to pick Doug up. As you might imagine, it is hard for people to take you seriously if you're with someone who appears to be insane, or at best drunk.
Eventually the situation was sorted out - the girls at the counter decided that we could make a phone call across the street at a payphone. So we headed out, but then decided we didn't need the phone after all - it was almost 10:00, and the girl Doug wanted to meet was getting off work about then, so we decided we'd just meet her there.
I should mention now that Doug is an amorous, and, by the attention he gets, apparently very charming fellow.
We arrived at a little indoor shopping area after a brief cab ride. We went to the clothing store where this girl works (her English name is Gray - yes, like the color. It seems her Chinese name sounds exactly like the word for gray, so that's what everyone calls her in English), and, as we approached the counter, we thought there was another girl there. That illusion was dispelled, though, when Doug said 'he' would be coming along with us. We looked again, and sure enough, it was a guy.
We let them close the store, and then we had to wait a while for another cab to show up (taxis are very cheap here, by the way - at least, compared to America). We took one to a hot pot restaurant (in case you don't know, they bring you a bowl of soupy stuff with something like a camping stove under it, and you toss uncooked food into the boiling soup to cook it - it's fairly good), and ordered dinner. For whatever reason, this place also offered waffles. I hadn't seen any in Taiwan up to this point, and most people I asked about them hadn't heard of them. So, there were waffles.
We had a good dinner, and, as conversation revealed, Gray's companion didn't have an English name. We tried coming up with one, but most were bizarre, or a little insulting. We almost decided on Terrance, but then someone (maybe it was Doug?) said, "how about Merlin?" We all agreed this was a perfect name, and so we named him Merlin. If ever you meet a Chinese person with a really strange name, you now have insight into how that might happen.
Merlin really is a good name, though.
Anyway. As you might expect, Merlin was gay, but very nice. Dinner was going well. The meals at these hot pot places will often come with a raw egg, and so Jordan had to mention that if you put an egg in your hand and squeeze as hard as you can, it won't break. Jordan hadn't totally recovered from being Superman, though, so he decided to demonstrate. It turns out, as he demonstrated for us all, that it is in fact quite easy to smash an egg in your bare hand...you just have to flex your fingers a little. I already knew this, but it may have been a surprise to poor Gray - the egg's messy explosion surprised her, but the yolk's sloppy and discourteous landing on her shirt was probably a little more shocking. In fact, everyone had egg on them (yes, we all had egg on our face, I know you want to say it, but actually none of us did) except Jordan - well, with the exception of his hand, which the crushed egg was leaking out of - and you'd kind of expect egg to be there. So we all went to clean ourselves up, Jordan offered profuse and plentiful apologies, and Gray returned without her shirt.
Titillating!
heh. Or not. She was wearing another shirt under her shirt. Somehow, girls are able to get cold in this country. I envy them.
So she came back - and, though you might not believe it, she was willing to stay out with us a little longer. Good sign for Doug, right?
We paid for our meal (and our guests - we had to pay the outrageous sum of $400 NT apiece - which comes to about $12.50 per person. I know, that's an awesome deal by American standards, but by Taiwanese ones, it was pricey) walked to a bar, had a few drinks, and really didn't do much else that night. Fortunately, I said I would not pay for anything at the bar. Jordan and Doug insisted on buying me drinks, though, and they bought several for Gray and Merlin as well. The total bar tab? $2000 NT - a huge sum of money - but only a little over $60 USD. Not bad for a night of drinking for five people, right?
After that we all went home for the night.
I'd end this blog here, but I wanted to mention that Jordan never really recovered from his Superman stint. He wanted to get a "Superman haircut" the next day.
Oh - I was going to end it, but I guess our day didn't quite end there. When we three guys got back to the World Passport office at around 2 AM, we were informed that the remaining people (who weren't working) were leaving for Taipei - in two hours. We didn't feel like packing, and we don't make much money at this job - it's more of a volunteer thing, after all - so we didn't feel like we could really afford a week in Taipei after that night of spending. And you know how it is with packing - there's a psychological barrier there - you see the suitcase, and you know what should go in it, but you really don't want to put things in there. Especially not after a long day capped off by drinking. So, we went to sleep.
And that about wraps up one day. Last Monday. heh. Lucky thing I'm not going to write out all of the next days, right?
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Even Further Adventures
Since I am having them quite far from you all - most of you, anyway.
I hadn't planned on ending that last post where I did, but that's how I published it anyway. I also had planned to write this post yesterday, but, halfway through writing it, the computer I'm using decided to crash. It's running Windows ME. And it hasnt' been treated well, either...the fact that the keyboard is working today has me in a good mood.
Anyway, I was writing about my host family. Like I said, they're very friendly people, and went far out of their way to make me comfortable. I forgot what exactly I was going to say, except that before I left, they took me several places, of which I have some good pictures. Right now I don't remember how to upload pictures, but when I figure it out, I will post them.
They took me to several temples, all of which were mystifying and old; I asked Judy (their daughter) for help, but she's no expert on religious matters, and many things remain which I need to research for myself. But she did an admirable job trying to explain things she barely knew in Chinese, in English. I do have to say, though, I heard a phrase I had never anticipated hearing: "that statue has a beautiful beard". Most of you aren't from here, so you probably wouldn't know the way temples are set up. I don't feel like taking the time, but there's usually a section up at the front (think of it as the alter area) that's full of statues. Some are gods, some are saints (or something), and others are assorted people, or just plain old statues. Anyway, I forget who it was supposed to be, but there was a huge statue of some guy, and he had a big black beard. I never thought of beards being especially beautiful, and never really though to put actual hair on a statue. But, that's because I'm just a crazy foreigner, probably.
What was more interesting, however, were the old fortresses I saw. One is called the "Eternal Golden Castle", though it is not Golden, or a Castle. Also, I am fairly certain it is not Eternal, but I have only been here a couple weeks...I suppose I'd have to wait until the place crumbled into finality to say for certain that it wasn't eternal.
Anyway, what it is is an old fortress. It was contracted out to the French, so it's a fairly reasonable cannon-fort with high earthen/stone walls. It also has nice trees.
We went during the typhoon; as you might imagine, it was raining. Judy had the good sense to warn me to wear sandals so that my feet wouldn't be too soaked. So I wore shoes. You know, just in case.
And, as you might have imagined, they got soaked. I was also wearing my extra-absorbant socks. When we arrived, it was pouring down rain. But, you need a brief explanation of the layout before anything else. To get in, you must pass through a brick gateway/tunnel, and then - then you see the real defenses. The walls and cannons are all very nice, but the real defensive bonus the fortress gives is from the inside - if anyone ever got within the walls, they would immediately be bogged down in mud, water, and grass up to their ankles - on a good day. The problem is so bad that the groundskeepers have placed plastic mats in the places where people walk (with lots of holes through them so grass can grow through), and, even then, the water's fairly deep. I took pictures, but I think I didn't get any good ones of the water. It was still pretty, though, and I like old forts anyway, so I had a good time. And my host family's son had an even better time than I did - he was splashing in every puddle and under every waterspout he could find. I don't think he even knew there was a fort - the water was all that mattered.
The other place I was taken was once a Dutch fort, before it was conquered by the famous pirate Koxinga, before it was rebuilt as a fort/house for a Japanese governer, and before it was rebuilt by the Taiwanese. It was a neat place, with lots of old walls and trees...which I took lots of pictures of. In fact, looking back, that's about all I've taken pictures of. Oh - that reminds me - another kindness I was shown by my host family was that they loaned me one of their digital cameras while we were sightseeing. Anyway, I think the name of the place is Anping Fort; it used to be Fort Zeelandia. I don't know what to say about it, except that it was interesting, and had some nice old artifacts.
And I was also given a taste tour of the city - apparently, the way things work here is that there are famous foodstands and restaurants all over, and each will serve some distinctive food. Some are really good, and the rest I'm sure you can guess at.
One of the stranger specialties is something called "Coffin Bread". It's a very thick piece of bread which has been hollowed out, filled with soup-ish stuff, had a very thin section of bread placed on top as a lid - and then the whole mess is deep-fried. I want to know what line of thinking led to this particular delicacy. Seriously - is this something you'd think to do on a slow day? I probably wouldn't.
But, for all that, it is pretty good. I mean, come on, it's fried. How could it fail to taste good?
Another specialty I sampled was something like balls of shrimp fried on a stick. It was also tasty.
Oh, I should mention - I was given all these things at one sitting.
Now, in case you should think all the local specialties are good, I will ask you to keep reading. The last specialty I had at this one sitting was a little odd - it was fried eggs and mussels. Doesnt' sound too especially bad, right? Well, it wasn't. It just wasn't that good, either. The eggs had American-style brown gravy on one half, and a huge offering of ketchup on the other. The mussels were just sitting there, being...mussely. And around the whole place was a lining of...something. I haven't figured out what it is yet, and everyone I ask doesn't really know where it comes from or what it's made of. Not a good sign, right? Anyway, it's this gelatinous/snotty stuff that tastes vaguely of meat. It's not especially appealing.
So I'm thinking that for specialties here, as at home, all that's really required is that you mix together things that...well, that probably don't really belong together. I like eggs, and I've never had anything against ketchup or gravy, but combining the three is a little weird. I've never liked mussels much. And the snotty, rubbery meat gel...I haven't acquired a taste for that, and I'm thinking I probably won't. But I still ate most of the thing. It wasn't all bad.
Oh, one last specialty - we went out for desert after that. Obviously, I was feeling really full, but I can't really turn down free, untried food. It was something like cold custard cubes in a sugar sauce, with the topping of your choice - and our choice was red beans. Some of you are probably wondering how bad that was - but you shoudn't. The red beans they use here are really sweet. They're a little mealy, though, so they do have a bit of an odd texture; you get used to it pretty quick - these red beans get used in all sorts of things (but they can be a source of dissapointment, too - sometimes you'll see something that looks like chocolate, but is actually red bean paste. It's not that it tastes bad, it's just not what you thought you were getting). But altogether, the desert was good.
This post is getting pretty long, so I'll go ahead and publish it. I might write another today, as well. (Oh, and if any of you want me to start an RSS feed, I can do that. In case you don't know what that is, it's a thing that will notify you all whenever I update. Just send me some comments or email.)
I hadn't planned on ending that last post where I did, but that's how I published it anyway. I also had planned to write this post yesterday, but, halfway through writing it, the computer I'm using decided to crash. It's running Windows ME. And it hasnt' been treated well, either...the fact that the keyboard is working today has me in a good mood.
Anyway, I was writing about my host family. Like I said, they're very friendly people, and went far out of their way to make me comfortable. I forgot what exactly I was going to say, except that before I left, they took me several places, of which I have some good pictures. Right now I don't remember how to upload pictures, but when I figure it out, I will post them.
They took me to several temples, all of which were mystifying and old; I asked Judy (their daughter) for help, but she's no expert on religious matters, and many things remain which I need to research for myself. But she did an admirable job trying to explain things she barely knew in Chinese, in English. I do have to say, though, I heard a phrase I had never anticipated hearing: "that statue has a beautiful beard". Most of you aren't from here, so you probably wouldn't know the way temples are set up. I don't feel like taking the time, but there's usually a section up at the front (think of it as the alter area) that's full of statues. Some are gods, some are saints (or something), and others are assorted people, or just plain old statues. Anyway, I forget who it was supposed to be, but there was a huge statue of some guy, and he had a big black beard. I never thought of beards being especially beautiful, and never really though to put actual hair on a statue. But, that's because I'm just a crazy foreigner, probably.
What was more interesting, however, were the old fortresses I saw. One is called the "Eternal Golden Castle", though it is not Golden, or a Castle. Also, I am fairly certain it is not Eternal, but I have only been here a couple weeks...I suppose I'd have to wait until the place crumbled into finality to say for certain that it wasn't eternal.
Anyway, what it is is an old fortress. It was contracted out to the French, so it's a fairly reasonable cannon-fort with high earthen/stone walls. It also has nice trees.
We went during the typhoon; as you might imagine, it was raining. Judy had the good sense to warn me to wear sandals so that my feet wouldn't be too soaked. So I wore shoes. You know, just in case.
And, as you might have imagined, they got soaked. I was also wearing my extra-absorbant socks. When we arrived, it was pouring down rain. But, you need a brief explanation of the layout before anything else. To get in, you must pass through a brick gateway/tunnel, and then - then you see the real defenses. The walls and cannons are all very nice, but the real defensive bonus the fortress gives is from the inside - if anyone ever got within the walls, they would immediately be bogged down in mud, water, and grass up to their ankles - on a good day. The problem is so bad that the groundskeepers have placed plastic mats in the places where people walk (with lots of holes through them so grass can grow through), and, even then, the water's fairly deep. I took pictures, but I think I didn't get any good ones of the water. It was still pretty, though, and I like old forts anyway, so I had a good time. And my host family's son had an even better time than I did - he was splashing in every puddle and under every waterspout he could find. I don't think he even knew there was a fort - the water was all that mattered.
The other place I was taken was once a Dutch fort, before it was conquered by the famous pirate Koxinga, before it was rebuilt as a fort/house for a Japanese governer, and before it was rebuilt by the Taiwanese. It was a neat place, with lots of old walls and trees...which I took lots of pictures of. In fact, looking back, that's about all I've taken pictures of. Oh - that reminds me - another kindness I was shown by my host family was that they loaned me one of their digital cameras while we were sightseeing. Anyway, I think the name of the place is Anping Fort; it used to be Fort Zeelandia. I don't know what to say about it, except that it was interesting, and had some nice old artifacts.
And I was also given a taste tour of the city - apparently, the way things work here is that there are famous foodstands and restaurants all over, and each will serve some distinctive food. Some are really good, and the rest I'm sure you can guess at.
One of the stranger specialties is something called "Coffin Bread". It's a very thick piece of bread which has been hollowed out, filled with soup-ish stuff, had a very thin section of bread placed on top as a lid - and then the whole mess is deep-fried. I want to know what line of thinking led to this particular delicacy. Seriously - is this something you'd think to do on a slow day? I probably wouldn't.
But, for all that, it is pretty good. I mean, come on, it's fried. How could it fail to taste good?
Another specialty I sampled was something like balls of shrimp fried on a stick. It was also tasty.
Oh, I should mention - I was given all these things at one sitting.
Now, in case you should think all the local specialties are good, I will ask you to keep reading. The last specialty I had at this one sitting was a little odd - it was fried eggs and mussels. Doesnt' sound too especially bad, right? Well, it wasn't. It just wasn't that good, either. The eggs had American-style brown gravy on one half, and a huge offering of ketchup on the other. The mussels were just sitting there, being...mussely. And around the whole place was a lining of...something. I haven't figured out what it is yet, and everyone I ask doesn't really know where it comes from or what it's made of. Not a good sign, right? Anyway, it's this gelatinous/snotty stuff that tastes vaguely of meat. It's not especially appealing.
So I'm thinking that for specialties here, as at home, all that's really required is that you mix together things that...well, that probably don't really belong together. I like eggs, and I've never had anything against ketchup or gravy, but combining the three is a little weird. I've never liked mussels much. And the snotty, rubbery meat gel...I haven't acquired a taste for that, and I'm thinking I probably won't. But I still ate most of the thing. It wasn't all bad.
Oh, one last specialty - we went out for desert after that. Obviously, I was feeling really full, but I can't really turn down free, untried food. It was something like cold custard cubes in a sugar sauce, with the topping of your choice - and our choice was red beans. Some of you are probably wondering how bad that was - but you shoudn't. The red beans they use here are really sweet. They're a little mealy, though, so they do have a bit of an odd texture; you get used to it pretty quick - these red beans get used in all sorts of things (but they can be a source of dissapointment, too - sometimes you'll see something that looks like chocolate, but is actually red bean paste. It's not that it tastes bad, it's just not what you thought you were getting). But altogether, the desert was good.
This post is getting pretty long, so I'll go ahead and publish it. I might write another today, as well. (Oh, and if any of you want me to start an RSS feed, I can do that. In case you don't know what that is, it's a thing that will notify you all whenever I update. Just send me some comments or email.)
Friday, July 14, 2006
Further Adventures
I know, what a title. Like I mentioned last post, English is trying to evacuate my brain. (By the way, after I've posted a blog, could I refer to that time period as post-post?)
Let's see...what is there to say? Too much. I wish I had time each day to write, but I don't, and so I forget a lot of it.
The last day or two I've been enjoying the typhoon. Typhoon is just another word for "really big storm that destroys stuff and is pretty awesome overall." In America, we'd call them hurricanes, but here, for whatever reason, they are typhoons. It hasn't done much except rain, a lot, and there have occasionally been strong gusts of wind. So I've been inside quite a bit.
I should mention that I'm staying with a host family this week - I haven't mentioned them yet, have I?
Well. They're very nice people. I like them. What's funny is that most families with daughters won't allow American guys to stay at their homes, for fairly obvious reasons. When I heard that this family (they're the Wangs, by the way) had a daughter, and that she was the only one who really spoke English, and that she was going to be a student where I was teaching, I have to say, that had me a little worried. I was thinking they might be some crazy Chinese family that was going to try to force me to marry their daughter.
Fortunately, that seems not to be the case, especially as she's only 16. She is a nice girl, very intelligent, with very good English and a lot of patience, but that's a huge age gap (and yes, she probably will read this), and being 'encouraged' to marry someone doesn't sound very appealing. So that's a huge relief. Instead, they just want me to teach her English. Which is more than fine - it's easy. She's a good student.
This family really has been good to me, though. The very first night, without even knowing me, they took me to a really nice restaurant that serves American food (pizza, steak, etc - and it all seems pretty good, and even fairly close to the real thing), and told me to get whatever I wanted. Now, that's nice anywhere, but here in Taiwan, food is really cheap. A good meal rarely costs more than $4 or so (and can easily be had for much less). Many of the things on this menu cost close to $20, for a single, small portion. I wouldn't have felt right to get somethnig that expensive, so I told the parents I'd split a pizza with them. It was a very good pizza, Hawaiin-style (which, strangely enough, is the cheapest pizza you can buy in this country), and it was almost regular sized. I should mention again that it was very good, because it was.
Anyway, it was strange to see pizza being served in a fancy, white-tablecloth restaurant. You know, the kind with waiters wearing suits, or at least really nice white shirts?
Mr. Wang has driven me to several old temples, which I have to say were very interesting (though slightly mystifying and incomprehensible) - Judy (the girl) is a good translator, but she doesn't know everything that I want to know, so don't ask me for a lot of detail on the stuff I saw. I do have some pictures, which I will try to post later.
The mother, Janice (or Janus? I'm not sure, really - names can be different from what you'd expect - the first week I was teaching, there were kids named "Lamp" (though I think it was supposed to be "Lamb"), "Genius", and "Can", so I don't take anything for granted), has obviously spent a lot of effort trying to learn English very quickly. Now, she struggles to speak, and I struggle to understand, and usually we come to some sort of halfway-understanding. And sometimes not.
For example: yesterday, she pointed out the window and said, I think, "Typhoon is not a vegetable." I agreed quickly, since, obviously, a typhoon is not a vegetable, and went on my merry way. As soon as I had the chance, though, I asked Judy what on Earth her mother was talking about. It turns out she meant to say something like, "because there's a typhoon, I can't get vegetables for dinner", which was fine by me. We had lots of meat instead - an excellent outcome.
But I am really impressed by the effort she's putting into trying to speak - it goes far beyond what most people would do.
The family also has a young son, whose name I can't remember just now, but who is called "Xiaozu"...at least, I think that's how it's spelled. He's about 4, and very mischeivious. He loves to run, and tear things up, and generally make trouble for everyone. It's kind of fun to watch, actually. Two days ago, Mr. Wang drove me to a bakery on the way back from somewhere (so that he could buy me breakfast!), and we hadn't been driving for more than about 3 minutes when we noticed that the boy had managed to get into the kleenex box. Most kids would just tear a few out, and be happy with the result - but, Xiaozu (I hope I'm spelling that right) decided he'd better apply a layer of kleenex to the entire back seat of the car. It was kind of funny, and he's such a cute kid it's hard to be very angry with him.
Let's see...what is there to say? Too much. I wish I had time each day to write, but I don't, and so I forget a lot of it.
The last day or two I've been enjoying the typhoon. Typhoon is just another word for "really big storm that destroys stuff and is pretty awesome overall." In America, we'd call them hurricanes, but here, for whatever reason, they are typhoons. It hasn't done much except rain, a lot, and there have occasionally been strong gusts of wind. So I've been inside quite a bit.
I should mention that I'm staying with a host family this week - I haven't mentioned them yet, have I?
Well. They're very nice people. I like them. What's funny is that most families with daughters won't allow American guys to stay at their homes, for fairly obvious reasons. When I heard that this family (they're the Wangs, by the way) had a daughter, and that she was the only one who really spoke English, and that she was going to be a student where I was teaching, I have to say, that had me a little worried. I was thinking they might be some crazy Chinese family that was going to try to force me to marry their daughter.
Fortunately, that seems not to be the case, especially as she's only 16. She is a nice girl, very intelligent, with very good English and a lot of patience, but that's a huge age gap (and yes, she probably will read this), and being 'encouraged' to marry someone doesn't sound very appealing. So that's a huge relief. Instead, they just want me to teach her English. Which is more than fine - it's easy. She's a good student.
This family really has been good to me, though. The very first night, without even knowing me, they took me to a really nice restaurant that serves American food (pizza, steak, etc - and it all seems pretty good, and even fairly close to the real thing), and told me to get whatever I wanted. Now, that's nice anywhere, but here in Taiwan, food is really cheap. A good meal rarely costs more than $4 or so (and can easily be had for much less). Many of the things on this menu cost close to $20, for a single, small portion. I wouldn't have felt right to get somethnig that expensive, so I told the parents I'd split a pizza with them. It was a very good pizza, Hawaiin-style (which, strangely enough, is the cheapest pizza you can buy in this country), and it was almost regular sized. I should mention again that it was very good, because it was.
Anyway, it was strange to see pizza being served in a fancy, white-tablecloth restaurant. You know, the kind with waiters wearing suits, or at least really nice white shirts?
Mr. Wang has driven me to several old temples, which I have to say were very interesting (though slightly mystifying and incomprehensible) - Judy (the girl) is a good translator, but she doesn't know everything that I want to know, so don't ask me for a lot of detail on the stuff I saw. I do have some pictures, which I will try to post later.
The mother, Janice (or Janus? I'm not sure, really - names can be different from what you'd expect - the first week I was teaching, there were kids named "Lamp" (though I think it was supposed to be "Lamb"), "Genius", and "Can", so I don't take anything for granted), has obviously spent a lot of effort trying to learn English very quickly. Now, she struggles to speak, and I struggle to understand, and usually we come to some sort of halfway-understanding. And sometimes not.
For example: yesterday, she pointed out the window and said, I think, "Typhoon is not a vegetable." I agreed quickly, since, obviously, a typhoon is not a vegetable, and went on my merry way. As soon as I had the chance, though, I asked Judy what on Earth her mother was talking about. It turns out she meant to say something like, "because there's a typhoon, I can't get vegetables for dinner", which was fine by me. We had lots of meat instead - an excellent outcome.
But I am really impressed by the effort she's putting into trying to speak - it goes far beyond what most people would do.
The family also has a young son, whose name I can't remember just now, but who is called "Xiaozu"...at least, I think that's how it's spelled. He's about 4, and very mischeivious. He loves to run, and tear things up, and generally make trouble for everyone. It's kind of fun to watch, actually. Two days ago, Mr. Wang drove me to a bakery on the way back from somewhere (so that he could buy me breakfast!), and we hadn't been driving for more than about 3 minutes when we noticed that the boy had managed to get into the kleenex box. Most kids would just tear a few out, and be happy with the result - but, Xiaozu (I hope I'm spelling that right) decided he'd better apply a layer of kleenex to the entire back seat of the car. It was kind of funny, and he's such a cute kid it's hard to be very angry with him.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
My trip so far
I am alive, after all. Surprising, right?
I have to say, though, it's not for lack of Taiwan trying to reverse my continuing run of good luck.
I have eaten, and survived, a dish called, literally, "stinky tofu". My English is deteriorating badly, by the way, so be warned. Anyway, as you might guess, this tofu is stinky. Not just a little inoffensive stink, either. It smells like cow shit. Cow shit left to ferment in the sun. Have you ever passed by a dairy farm, where they'll have a lot of the stuff piled up and, for reasons unclear to me, left under plastic tarps? Stinky tofu smells exactly like that. If you can get over the smell, the taste isn't bad - but it's not something I'd recommend you try, unless it was just to say you'd tried it.
But that's pretty tame. Apparently you're not supposed to drink the water here, because it can kill you. At least that's what people say - not even the Taiwanese drink the tap water.
Well, I drink the water anyway. Not all the time mind you, but when it's convenient. People think I'm crazy for it. It hasn't made me sick yet. I think it's probably one of those urban myths; if not, I'm pretty hardy, so I should be all right.
Food is stored by pretty relaxed standards - it's fairly normal to go to a restaurant and see a bowl of...something...sitting out. And let me tell you, it's hot here. So there'll be food just sitting around outside all day, and somehow, it doesn't quite go bad. I haven't gotten sick from that yet, either.
Buildings are constructed - and torn down - very quickly and seemingly without much regard for planning. The walls are thin, the buildings are tall and skinny, and stairways are very steep, with tiny stairs. If there are any decent earthquakes, I expect to see significant portions of the city collapse.
Most interestingly, the traffic here is regulated by a series of suggestions, not laws. Don't feel like waiting through that red light? Just honk your horn and go on through at 40 mph. Everyone else will be more or less understanding. There's no lane to drive in? That's fine. There's plenty of space on the shoulder, and on the moped lane, and in the turning lanes, and in intersections, and especially on the other side of the street. Plenty of unused space there. Don't signal for it, either, since someone else might decide to take it then.
I've only seen a total of 5 cops in my time here - I would call them relaxed fit cops. Heh. It's a pun. (Fit? As in, in shape? Oh yeah, still got those pun muscles to work out.) I think they're pretty happy so long as no one asks them to do anything. They really seem to be pretty cheerful, overall. Traffic is really not their thing.
And then there's the heat. Air conditioning, standard in most of the USA, is something more like a fancy nicety here. Each room will have a separate AC unit, which is terrifically inefficient; yet, electricity is supposedly very expensive here. The school I taught at last week, for example, did not have air conditioning. I don't know exactly how hot it was, but, according to my dad, it was something like 110, by the heat index. Humidity here is so bad you can not just almost see it - oh no, I'd say you could almost sculpt it. So shade is really no relief at all - it's just as hot, but with less brightness. Now imagine standing around in 110 degrees for 12 hours a day, teaching. Teaching a group of kids who are sitting in 110 weather. Now imagine being told that you have to teach them some American sports - and then being told that the gym doesn't have AC either, so you'll have to do it outside. Being forced to play basketball in that sort of heat is no one's idea of fun. I feel bad for those kids.
But, that's not to say that I'm not enjoying my time here. The kids I was teaching were all very good, and I wish I didn't have to move on. I was just getting used to them, and they were fun to be around.
The food here is also very good, plentiful, and cheap. Getting meals requires no planning, because there is always something to eat within 5 minute's walk. And it is almost all good. Now, there are some quirks - things that look familiar usually are not. Milk, for example. I was looking to get some milk the other day, and, since I don't read Chinese very well, I grabbed the most normal-looking container. It was milk, and it wasn't spoiled. However - I think it should have to carry some text saying, "inspired by milk". Think chocolate milk, but without the chocolate. Bread's the same way - it all has sugar added. Or, it's something slightly bizarre, like bacon bread. Or it has corn in it. Or ham and cheese baked into it.
So food's an adventure - I think the basic food groups here in Taiwan are sugar, grease, and vinegar. But it's all so cheap, and some of it is surprisingly good, so it's more fun than not.
That's all I'll write for now.
I have to say, though, it's not for lack of Taiwan trying to reverse my continuing run of good luck.
I have eaten, and survived, a dish called, literally, "stinky tofu". My English is deteriorating badly, by the way, so be warned. Anyway, as you might guess, this tofu is stinky. Not just a little inoffensive stink, either. It smells like cow shit. Cow shit left to ferment in the sun. Have you ever passed by a dairy farm, where they'll have a lot of the stuff piled up and, for reasons unclear to me, left under plastic tarps? Stinky tofu smells exactly like that. If you can get over the smell, the taste isn't bad - but it's not something I'd recommend you try, unless it was just to say you'd tried it.
But that's pretty tame. Apparently you're not supposed to drink the water here, because it can kill you. At least that's what people say - not even the Taiwanese drink the tap water.
Well, I drink the water anyway. Not all the time mind you, but when it's convenient. People think I'm crazy for it. It hasn't made me sick yet. I think it's probably one of those urban myths; if not, I'm pretty hardy, so I should be all right.
Food is stored by pretty relaxed standards - it's fairly normal to go to a restaurant and see a bowl of...something...sitting out. And let me tell you, it's hot here. So there'll be food just sitting around outside all day, and somehow, it doesn't quite go bad. I haven't gotten sick from that yet, either.
Buildings are constructed - and torn down - very quickly and seemingly without much regard for planning. The walls are thin, the buildings are tall and skinny, and stairways are very steep, with tiny stairs. If there are any decent earthquakes, I expect to see significant portions of the city collapse.
Most interestingly, the traffic here is regulated by a series of suggestions, not laws. Don't feel like waiting through that red light? Just honk your horn and go on through at 40 mph. Everyone else will be more or less understanding. There's no lane to drive in? That's fine. There's plenty of space on the shoulder, and on the moped lane, and in the turning lanes, and in intersections, and especially on the other side of the street. Plenty of unused space there. Don't signal for it, either, since someone else might decide to take it then.
I've only seen a total of 5 cops in my time here - I would call them relaxed fit cops. Heh. It's a pun. (Fit? As in, in shape? Oh yeah, still got those pun muscles to work out.) I think they're pretty happy so long as no one asks them to do anything. They really seem to be pretty cheerful, overall. Traffic is really not their thing.
And then there's the heat. Air conditioning, standard in most of the USA, is something more like a fancy nicety here. Each room will have a separate AC unit, which is terrifically inefficient; yet, electricity is supposedly very expensive here. The school I taught at last week, for example, did not have air conditioning. I don't know exactly how hot it was, but, according to my dad, it was something like 110, by the heat index. Humidity here is so bad you can not just almost see it - oh no, I'd say you could almost sculpt it. So shade is really no relief at all - it's just as hot, but with less brightness. Now imagine standing around in 110 degrees for 12 hours a day, teaching. Teaching a group of kids who are sitting in 110 weather. Now imagine being told that you have to teach them some American sports - and then being told that the gym doesn't have AC either, so you'll have to do it outside. Being forced to play basketball in that sort of heat is no one's idea of fun. I feel bad for those kids.
But, that's not to say that I'm not enjoying my time here. The kids I was teaching were all very good, and I wish I didn't have to move on. I was just getting used to them, and they were fun to be around.
The food here is also very good, plentiful, and cheap. Getting meals requires no planning, because there is always something to eat within 5 minute's walk. And it is almost all good. Now, there are some quirks - things that look familiar usually are not. Milk, for example. I was looking to get some milk the other day, and, since I don't read Chinese very well, I grabbed the most normal-looking container. It was milk, and it wasn't spoiled. However - I think it should have to carry some text saying, "inspired by milk". Think chocolate milk, but without the chocolate. Bread's the same way - it all has sugar added. Or, it's something slightly bizarre, like bacon bread. Or it has corn in it. Or ham and cheese baked into it.
So food's an adventure - I think the basic food groups here in Taiwan are sugar, grease, and vinegar. But it's all so cheap, and some of it is surprisingly good, so it's more fun than not.
That's all I'll write for now.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Result 3
Gene contributed the first sentence. Of course, who else would've said it?
"What a funny looking elephant. Normally the hippies can at least draw, but it's obvious this granola-head can't." He gestured to the distant streaks of pinkish tint staining the pine forest below us.
"Is that what this is all about? You wanted a picture of an elephant?" I watched the plane banking. Looked like it was going to fly off, now that it was out of slurry. I wished it could come pick us off this mountain - it was a long hike up here.
"Well, yeah. It's your birthday! Surprise!" His stupid grin was almost as wide as his helmet. I wanted to smack him, but he was too far away. How would we explain this?
"You know he's not coming back with our plane, don't you?" My companion's brow furled, like a dirty flag sagging its way up at dawn. He looked at me like I was speaking some sort of Moon-language.
"I know. I sold him the plane. How else was I going to pay for that sort of artwork?" He waved his hands dismissively, then gestured at the pink mess. "But have you ever seen a bigger elephant?!"
"You..." I lost my words for a moment, and stared at him. Then I stared at the 'elephant' that was going to cost me my job. Neither made any damn sense at all. We were firefighters! Park Rangers! What business did we have selling a government plane? Or wasting firefighting supplies like that? And funny-looking was a terrible way to describe that post-modern mess of pink streaks. It looked as much like Chinese or Arabic as it did an elephant. At least, I couldn't have told the difference between the three. What the hell did we need an elephant picture for, anyway?
I turned back to my idiot friend. "This is not just the worst elephant I have ever seen. That damn hippy was probably high as a kite, and it's hard to draw with slurry anyway, but this is far worse. Do you know why?" I considered letting him answer, but decided I didn't want to waste my time. "Because this is my birthday, damnit. You can't sell a plane, just like that. And you had me hike all day to get here! Just to see this fricking streak of pepto-bismo diarrhea across our damn forest! The forest we're supposed to keep from burning! How the hell are we going to do our job without a plane?" I noticed my fists were clenched tight. I was shaking, too. And my ears were ringing - I guess I was yelling.
He just looked at me. Then he started laughing.
Next thing I knew, we were on the ground, and I was trying to force my fist through the side of his head. Fortunately for him, his head was winning. He somehow rolled out from under me, stumbled around for a second - and without warning, lunged straight at me. He managed to slam my back into an uncomfortable pile of rocks. While I was dazed, he pinned me down, and then, to my surprise, he resumed smiling.
"Man, that fuckin' hurt! You punch hard! But there ain't nothing to worry about. See, I worked it out." I tried speaking, but all that came out was a wheeze. The side of his face was an angry, swollen red, and I thought I could see it throbbing a little. That had to be painful.
"It's like this: we don't like hippies, right?" My lungs allowed me to mumble something close to a yes. Dumb bastards thought they could commune with nature, and as a result we usually had to rescue them from something or other.
His face lit up...at least, the part that wasn't already red. "Well, that hippy just stole our plane. A slurry bomber could be used for terrorist stuff. You know, spreading chemicals. He's got one. We just saw him flying over the forest, doing a practice run with some slurry. He's not supposed to be in that plane. So we call the police, or someone, and tell them a terrorist hijacked our plane. They'll arrest him, we'll get the plane back, and everything's good." He smiled even wider. I guess he was done.
"That's...the whole plan?" He let go of my arms, and stood up a little shakily.
"Yup."
I brushed myself off, then slowly, painfully rose to my own feet. "Do you really think anyone's going to believe that?"
"Oh, maybe. It helps, too, that I found him some very interesting mushrooms. He ain't gonna remember shit about today, and the cops'll be willing to believe a drugged-up hippy would try something like this." He shrugged and smiled.
"Well...." I had to admit, this might work. I still wanted to re-arrange his teeth. Just not as much. "Alright. I guess I'm sold. Not much choice now, right?"
"Yeah, there you go! Man, let's radio the cops, then head on back. I wanna catch this on the news." He started fiddling with the radio.
"Gonna be a long hike. Can you walk okay?" He still looked a little wobbly.
"Oh, mostly. Gotta say, you really hit hard. You alright?"
"I've had better birthdays."
He chuckled.
"Oh, by the way - why an elephant? Did you think I liked them?" He held the radio, ready to transmit our message.
"Nah." He shook his head, slowly. His smile seemed to stop at the boundary of his welt.
"Well, what the hell kind of birthday present is that?"
"Oh, I was watching Dumbo, and they were talking about pink elephants or some shit, and how they never forget - I don't remember exactly, I guess I was a little drunk - but I decided - this will be a birthday you'll never forget. Why not have a pink elephant?"
"What a funny looking elephant. Normally the hippies can at least draw, but it's obvious this granola-head can't." He gestured to the distant streaks of pinkish tint staining the pine forest below us.
"Is that what this is all about? You wanted a picture of an elephant?" I watched the plane banking. Looked like it was going to fly off, now that it was out of slurry. I wished it could come pick us off this mountain - it was a long hike up here.
"Well, yeah. It's your birthday! Surprise!" His stupid grin was almost as wide as his helmet. I wanted to smack him, but he was too far away. How would we explain this?
"You know he's not coming back with our plane, don't you?" My companion's brow furled, like a dirty flag sagging its way up at dawn. He looked at me like I was speaking some sort of Moon-language.
"I know. I sold him the plane. How else was I going to pay for that sort of artwork?" He waved his hands dismissively, then gestured at the pink mess. "But have you ever seen a bigger elephant?!"
"You..." I lost my words for a moment, and stared at him. Then I stared at the 'elephant' that was going to cost me my job. Neither made any damn sense at all. We were firefighters! Park Rangers! What business did we have selling a government plane? Or wasting firefighting supplies like that? And funny-looking was a terrible way to describe that post-modern mess of pink streaks. It looked as much like Chinese or Arabic as it did an elephant. At least, I couldn't have told the difference between the three. What the hell did we need an elephant picture for, anyway?
I turned back to my idiot friend. "This is not just the worst elephant I have ever seen. That damn hippy was probably high as a kite, and it's hard to draw with slurry anyway, but this is far worse. Do you know why?" I considered letting him answer, but decided I didn't want to waste my time. "Because this is my birthday, damnit. You can't sell a plane, just like that. And you had me hike all day to get here! Just to see this fricking streak of pepto-bismo diarrhea across our damn forest! The forest we're supposed to keep from burning! How the hell are we going to do our job without a plane?" I noticed my fists were clenched tight. I was shaking, too. And my ears were ringing - I guess I was yelling.
He just looked at me. Then he started laughing.
Next thing I knew, we were on the ground, and I was trying to force my fist through the side of his head. Fortunately for him, his head was winning. He somehow rolled out from under me, stumbled around for a second - and without warning, lunged straight at me. He managed to slam my back into an uncomfortable pile of rocks. While I was dazed, he pinned me down, and then, to my surprise, he resumed smiling.
"Man, that fuckin' hurt! You punch hard! But there ain't nothing to worry about. See, I worked it out." I tried speaking, but all that came out was a wheeze. The side of his face was an angry, swollen red, and I thought I could see it throbbing a little. That had to be painful.
"It's like this: we don't like hippies, right?" My lungs allowed me to mumble something close to a yes. Dumb bastards thought they could commune with nature, and as a result we usually had to rescue them from something or other.
His face lit up...at least, the part that wasn't already red. "Well, that hippy just stole our plane. A slurry bomber could be used for terrorist stuff. You know, spreading chemicals. He's got one. We just saw him flying over the forest, doing a practice run with some slurry. He's not supposed to be in that plane. So we call the police, or someone, and tell them a terrorist hijacked our plane. They'll arrest him, we'll get the plane back, and everything's good." He smiled even wider. I guess he was done.
"That's...the whole plan?" He let go of my arms, and stood up a little shakily.
"Yup."
I brushed myself off, then slowly, painfully rose to my own feet. "Do you really think anyone's going to believe that?"
"Oh, maybe. It helps, too, that I found him some very interesting mushrooms. He ain't gonna remember shit about today, and the cops'll be willing to believe a drugged-up hippy would try something like this." He shrugged and smiled.
"Well...." I had to admit, this might work. I still wanted to re-arrange his teeth. Just not as much. "Alright. I guess I'm sold. Not much choice now, right?"
"Yeah, there you go! Man, let's radio the cops, then head on back. I wanna catch this on the news." He started fiddling with the radio.
"Gonna be a long hike. Can you walk okay?" He still looked a little wobbly.
"Oh, mostly. Gotta say, you really hit hard. You alright?"
"I've had better birthdays."
He chuckled.
"Oh, by the way - why an elephant? Did you think I liked them?" He held the radio, ready to transmit our message.
"Nah." He shook his head, slowly. His smile seemed to stop at the boundary of his welt.
"Well, what the hell kind of birthday present is that?"
"Oh, I was watching Dumbo, and they were talking about pink elephants or some shit, and how they never forget - I don't remember exactly, I guess I was a little drunk - but I decided - this will be a birthday you'll never forget. Why not have a pink elephant?"
Result number Two!
This one is thanks to something Kirin wrote - she inexplicably sent me this first paragraph (which I did some minor editing on), so I just as inexplicably wrote a story!
"I like ducks," he said with great earnestness. "But did you know ducks belong to the sub family Anatinae? Not only is this grouping the largest group of waterfowl, it is also the most diverse." His beady eyes shone brightly in the harsh light. "The characteristics generally held in common by ducks when compared to geese and swans are the small body size, shorter necks, narrower wings which are more pointed, and wing beats which are more rapid." He seemed to have reached some conclusion, but I couldn't figure out what.
I blinked. This was not what I had expected. I blinked a few more times so I'd remember what it was like. 'Sharky' was supposed to be a brutal killer, not - well, not this. Not some sort of nature freak. I looked at my watch. Bedtime was long gone. Hell, I don't even go home anymore, so there's not much point talking about it. I sleep at my desk, when I can, and make up for the rest with coffee. Well, and other things. Our evidence room fills up quickly, so I help clean it out once in a while.
I turned back to Sharky, who was eagerly smiling at me. That was a little strange, sure - most fellas don't smile when they're under police interrogation. And most don't file their teeth into sharp points, either. But I honestly couldn't find anything criminally wrong with him - he was odd, sure, but then, so are most folks.
"So, let's go over this again - you have no idea why another squirrel's paw was found in your car?"
His bushy tail twitched a little. That made me nervous - I thought he might be ready to jump at me. I was glad I'd tied him down. Sure, that was illegal, but he was crazy. I doubt he'd even noticed.
"Well, sir, did you know that ducks are also warm-blooded? It's true! Modern scientists agree that class Aves, of which all Anatidae are members, is most likely descended from dinosaurs! And ducks have gizzards! Truly incredible!"
There were better ways to spend my time. I imagined a lengthy examination of my eyelids, from the backside. Yeah. That sounded nice. I put a paw to my forehead. My hat felt a little crooked, so I pushed it into place. It never sat quite right over my ears.
"Alright," I started, "I like ducks as much as the next guy -"
"And what's even more incredible," he continued, "is the taste."
"Wait - what did you just say?" I wasn't sure I'd heard him right.
He actually looked at me - like he noticed I'd spoken. That was new. "Oh, yes! Their skin is so crispy and fatty and greasy and hot and drippy and...", he was starting to pant, "oh, it's so good."
My stomach started up, trying to squeeze itself dry. I held myself together. I'd seen worse. "You eat ducks? After all they've done for us?"
He seemed not to notice. "Oh, they have a special term just for roast duck in China. They aren't shy. They know just what they want. They call it kaoya - literally, flamed duck. I highly recommend it."
I decided not to bring my associates in just yet - they were dependable mallards, but there was only one of me, and they'd probably try to kill this guy. I might not be the best cop, but I don't kill anyone I don't have to. Or let it happen. Well, not yet.
"So," I started, cautiously, "why do you eat ducks? Is it just the flavor?"
"Oh, I suppose." He looked around like he was stumped. "That's really all there is to it." He licked his lips.
"Don't you - ." I wasn't sure how to say this. "Aren't they a lot like you and me? They fought on our side in the war, remember?" We wouldn't have won without them - together, we'd been able to banish the dogs to the coldest, most hellish parts of the world.
"How silly. Of course they're like you and me."
"Well, then...then, why are you eating them?" I realized I was almost happy about all this - I could bust this freak for something! I wondered if I should feel ashamed.
"I just said. They're a lot like you and me. Do they not have the same blood pumping through their veins? Are they not made of flesh, just as we are? Are they not delicious?"
That hand in his car took on a new meaning. "Are you saying," I grimaced, "that you eat squirrels, too?"
"Hey, winters get long, man. You don't know what it's like out there. Squirrel's got to look out for himself. You know that. you were in the war, just like me, right?"
"Damnit! I don't know about you, but me and my guys, we took care of each other. Like brothers! We weren't fucking cannibals!" He'd gotten to me. That bastard was really smiling now - those knife-edged teeth of his gleamed in the harsh light, and I wondered if that's what he used - it probably was. I guess he wasn't called 'Sharky' for nothing.
"Oh. Well, enough about you. Did you also - "
I cracked my fist into the side of his head. Little needles shot up my arm, and he reeled back like a punching bag. He careened right back to me like one, too, due to my fine ropework.
He started drooling, and his eyes got distant. "I saw God once, you know." He looked ecstatic, even though he was drooling a little blood. I just clobbered this guy - what the hell was wrong with him?
"He understands me. He said I was special. He showed me the way."
I was more bewildered now than angry. What was he getting at? Was he really going to tell me something useful, or was this just more babble? I had enough to charge him with something already.
"He told me something else special, too." He looked at me, like a child would look at its father - seeking approval, admiration in his bright eyes. "If you force them to eat, and eat, and eat - a miracle happens."
He was rubbing his paws together through the ropes, and his eyes wandered like lazy summer bees. I let him continue.
"After a while, they get sick. And then, you take out their liver, and - " my eyes must've widened, because his suddenly darted to me, "and it is so, so good."
I couldn't keep quiet. I had to know. "...What you're saying...let me get this straight. You force-feed ducks, and, when it starts to kill them, you pull out their liver? Just like that? How many times -"
"Oh, it's nothing. There's a special term for this, too - it's called pate. It's really easy!"
I kicked his chair over. He crashed to the floor, and I smiled, knowing I would crush his worthless skull. I had a sudden vision, of cleaning his evil, splattered brains - his evil thoughts - off my boots with a hose. Then the door burst open.
"Sir! Are -" They started, but then stopped when they saw me. Damnit. It was the mallards, too. They froze.
"Boys. This -" I pointed at the floor. I couldn't call that thing a squirrel. "This thing, here, has...shit, he's evil."
He seemed to have recovered himself - or at least, to have returned to whatever was normal for him - and he looked right at the ducks. His eyes lit up, he smiled, and even though he was on his side, strapped to a chair, he started chanting, "pate. pate. pate. pate. pate..."
The mallards looked at me nervously. "Sir? What is he -"
I hung my head. "Boys, you're not gonna like this. There's a reason you never hear that term. It's a special term for...well, for your liver. After it's diseased and fatty."
"But why -"
He kept chanting, quietly but insistently, filling the short moments of silence. "Some sick bastard must've decided to eat it a long time ago. I've heard about it. He must've liked it, too, because it was considered a delicacy."
Sgt. Plume, the older one, cocked his long neck back. Officer Scutt just looked dazed.
"Look, I'm done here. We need to lock this guy up, have a look around his place. I get the feeling he's done a few things we'd like to know about."
Smiling a little, Sgt. Plume said, "like, or need to know?"
"Yeah, you're right." I nodded. "Who wants to know this stuff?"
They moved in, and I walked out. My tail was spasming a little - time to go find a fix.
I had to wonder, and not for the first time, why I get so many of these nutcases. Yeah, those ducks like to say it's because I'm a squirrel, but I'm tired of it anyway. I'm tired of cracking them open. Well, this one isn't going anywhere yet. Maybe, for once, I can get some shut-eye. Yeah. They can handle things for a while. I'll just check up on the old place. Just a little nap. Not too long....
"I like ducks," he said with great earnestness. "But did you know ducks belong to the sub family Anatinae? Not only is this grouping the largest group of waterfowl, it is also the most diverse." His beady eyes shone brightly in the harsh light. "The characteristics generally held in common by ducks when compared to geese and swans are the small body size, shorter necks, narrower wings which are more pointed, and wing beats which are more rapid." He seemed to have reached some conclusion, but I couldn't figure out what.
I blinked. This was not what I had expected. I blinked a few more times so I'd remember what it was like. 'Sharky' was supposed to be a brutal killer, not - well, not this. Not some sort of nature freak. I looked at my watch. Bedtime was long gone. Hell, I don't even go home anymore, so there's not much point talking about it. I sleep at my desk, when I can, and make up for the rest with coffee. Well, and other things. Our evidence room fills up quickly, so I help clean it out once in a while.
I turned back to Sharky, who was eagerly smiling at me. That was a little strange, sure - most fellas don't smile when they're under police interrogation. And most don't file their teeth into sharp points, either. But I honestly couldn't find anything criminally wrong with him - he was odd, sure, but then, so are most folks.
"So, let's go over this again - you have no idea why another squirrel's paw was found in your car?"
His bushy tail twitched a little. That made me nervous - I thought he might be ready to jump at me. I was glad I'd tied him down. Sure, that was illegal, but he was crazy. I doubt he'd even noticed.
"Well, sir, did you know that ducks are also warm-blooded? It's true! Modern scientists agree that class Aves, of which all Anatidae are members, is most likely descended from dinosaurs! And ducks have gizzards! Truly incredible!"
There were better ways to spend my time. I imagined a lengthy examination of my eyelids, from the backside. Yeah. That sounded nice. I put a paw to my forehead. My hat felt a little crooked, so I pushed it into place. It never sat quite right over my ears.
"Alright," I started, "I like ducks as much as the next guy -"
"And what's even more incredible," he continued, "is the taste."
"Wait - what did you just say?" I wasn't sure I'd heard him right.
He actually looked at me - like he noticed I'd spoken. That was new. "Oh, yes! Their skin is so crispy and fatty and greasy and hot and drippy and...", he was starting to pant, "oh, it's so good."
My stomach started up, trying to squeeze itself dry. I held myself together. I'd seen worse. "You eat ducks? After all they've done for us?"
He seemed not to notice. "Oh, they have a special term just for roast duck in China. They aren't shy. They know just what they want. They call it kaoya - literally, flamed duck. I highly recommend it."
I decided not to bring my associates in just yet - they were dependable mallards, but there was only one of me, and they'd probably try to kill this guy. I might not be the best cop, but I don't kill anyone I don't have to. Or let it happen. Well, not yet.
"So," I started, cautiously, "why do you eat ducks? Is it just the flavor?"
"Oh, I suppose." He looked around like he was stumped. "That's really all there is to it." He licked his lips.
"Don't you - ." I wasn't sure how to say this. "Aren't they a lot like you and me? They fought on our side in the war, remember?" We wouldn't have won without them - together, we'd been able to banish the dogs to the coldest, most hellish parts of the world.
"How silly. Of course they're like you and me."
"Well, then...then, why are you eating them?" I realized I was almost happy about all this - I could bust this freak for something! I wondered if I should feel ashamed.
"I just said. They're a lot like you and me. Do they not have the same blood pumping through their veins? Are they not made of flesh, just as we are? Are they not delicious?"
That hand in his car took on a new meaning. "Are you saying," I grimaced, "that you eat squirrels, too?"
"Hey, winters get long, man. You don't know what it's like out there. Squirrel's got to look out for himself. You know that. you were in the war, just like me, right?"
"Damnit! I don't know about you, but me and my guys, we took care of each other. Like brothers! We weren't fucking cannibals!" He'd gotten to me. That bastard was really smiling now - those knife-edged teeth of his gleamed in the harsh light, and I wondered if that's what he used - it probably was. I guess he wasn't called 'Sharky' for nothing.
"Oh. Well, enough about you. Did you also - "
I cracked my fist into the side of his head. Little needles shot up my arm, and he reeled back like a punching bag. He careened right back to me like one, too, due to my fine ropework.
He started drooling, and his eyes got distant. "I saw God once, you know." He looked ecstatic, even though he was drooling a little blood. I just clobbered this guy - what the hell was wrong with him?
"He understands me. He said I was special. He showed me the way."
I was more bewildered now than angry. What was he getting at? Was he really going to tell me something useful, or was this just more babble? I had enough to charge him with something already.
"He told me something else special, too." He looked at me, like a child would look at its father - seeking approval, admiration in his bright eyes. "If you force them to eat, and eat, and eat - a miracle happens."
He was rubbing his paws together through the ropes, and his eyes wandered like lazy summer bees. I let him continue.
"After a while, they get sick. And then, you take out their liver, and - " my eyes must've widened, because his suddenly darted to me, "and it is so, so good."
I couldn't keep quiet. I had to know. "...What you're saying...let me get this straight. You force-feed ducks, and, when it starts to kill them, you pull out their liver? Just like that? How many times -"
"Oh, it's nothing. There's a special term for this, too - it's called pate. It's really easy!"
I kicked his chair over. He crashed to the floor, and I smiled, knowing I would crush his worthless skull. I had a sudden vision, of cleaning his evil, splattered brains - his evil thoughts - off my boots with a hose. Then the door burst open.
"Sir! Are -" They started, but then stopped when they saw me. Damnit. It was the mallards, too. They froze.
"Boys. This -" I pointed at the floor. I couldn't call that thing a squirrel. "This thing, here, has...shit, he's evil."
He seemed to have recovered himself - or at least, to have returned to whatever was normal for him - and he looked right at the ducks. His eyes lit up, he smiled, and even though he was on his side, strapped to a chair, he started chanting, "pate. pate. pate. pate. pate..."
The mallards looked at me nervously. "Sir? What is he -"
I hung my head. "Boys, you're not gonna like this. There's a reason you never hear that term. It's a special term for...well, for your liver. After it's diseased and fatty."
"But why -"
He kept chanting, quietly but insistently, filling the short moments of silence. "Some sick bastard must've decided to eat it a long time ago. I've heard about it. He must've liked it, too, because it was considered a delicacy."
Sgt. Plume, the older one, cocked his long neck back. Officer Scutt just looked dazed.
"Look, I'm done here. We need to lock this guy up, have a look around his place. I get the feeling he's done a few things we'd like to know about."
Smiling a little, Sgt. Plume said, "like, or need to know?"
"Yeah, you're right." I nodded. "Who wants to know this stuff?"
They moved in, and I walked out. My tail was spasming a little - time to go find a fix.
I had to wonder, and not for the first time, why I get so many of these nutcases. Yeah, those ducks like to say it's because I'm a squirrel, but I'm tired of it anyway. I'm tired of cracking them open. Well, this one isn't going anywhere yet. Maybe, for once, I can get some shut-eye. Yeah. They can handle things for a while. I'll just check up on the old place. Just a little nap. Not too long....
First result
So you know what's going on, I posted a bulletin a few weeks ago, asking people to send me a sentence or two so that I could write something from it. My cousin Alex sent me the first line. Here is the resulting story.
"This is fantastic! ... but why is it shaped like Sonic?"
Zhang Li was excited, but stumped. That couldn't be what it was. It was far too large - at least the size of a small hill. The colors were right, though. He turned his head to look at his comrades - they were all looking back at him, with the exception of the cultural officer, who was busily but quietly speaking into a transmitter.
The captain, his face creased into his best likeness of unconcern, asked, "What is a Sonic?" Li almost shook his head with pity - he couldn't believe he was working with such country bumpkins. How did they ever make it out here? Country bumpkins belonged on the earth, with their farms, not up here among the stars.
"Sir, it is an American restaurant chain. You drive into the parking lot, and then they bring you food. The service is fast, and often they have serving girls wearing roller-skates. We have many in the cities."
Nodding sagely, the captain said, "Oh. I see." Li knew he didn't. He was a bumbling fool.
Turning to view the..well, the object, he would have to call it; he said, "So, Sir, why would this be here?" He waited for the foolish response his captain would surely make. Privately, he was burning with curiosity - the astrogeologist in him badly wanted to see what was in this...thing. Could it really be a Sonic? What was it made of? As large as it was, it could probably be mined, and it was surely full of valuable metals. He might be promoted for this discovery! He might even get the attention of senior Party leaders! But he had been on this ship for months now, forced to tolerate this man whom his comrades all looked up to. They were all so backwards. This man had grown up on a pig farm. He was not a stoic leader! He was nothing!
The deck was quiet. Zhang felt his skin crawl a little, and then little beads of sweat crept out under his arms. He wondered if he'd gone too far - the captain might have taken offense, and so it was with some hesitation and caution that he turned his head.
The captain smiled down beautifically from his chair. His fingers splayed out and came together, looking like the fangs of a particularly nasty predator. There they rested, on his desk, and Zhang noticed that they were in fact very muscular. The rumors he'd heard crept into his mind, like spiders from a black pit. Whispers filled his mind - of the captain killing a man bare-handed - that he had once shoved his fingers into a man's eyes, and then held the blinded fellow until his shrieking stopped. After that no one agreed what happened, except that the man had died. Zhang shuddered a little, and hoped it went unnoticed.
The captain finally spoke: "You are the the science officer. You tell me." His smile had gone unbroken. Zhang's heart jumped at each word, anticipating some sort of horror: he was relieved that it had not turned out badly, yet.
"Sir, I," he started, his voice shaking, "...that's not my specialty Sir!"
"Well," the captain said, "it isn't mine, either. If you can't do what you're here for, I fail to see why I should keep you."
"Sir! I...Sir! I'll look into it. Send me in, Sir!" Blackness was devouring Zhang's mind - things had been so good only seconds ago, and now he was facing possible dismissal, or maybe worse. Zhang decided the captain probably did deserve more respect.
"Very well, Zhang." Being addressed by name was never a good sign. "I want you to investigate this for me." That wasn't so bad; in fact, this was a pretty good turn of events. He could investigate the composition of the object! He could prove his usefulness! Zhang's vision became less black, and he noticed the cultural officer scowling, clenching his communicator. That bastard! Zhang hated those Party tools. They were always looking for people to rat out. Well, his luck hadn't run out, yet. He was born lucky. That little rat of a man would have to find someone else to report on for today.
"Even before you said it was an American restaurant, Zhang, I suspected this might have something to do with their accident. For that reason alone it is worthy of investigation." The captain's gaze was faraway, and Zhang wondered if he was remembering the exploratory mission in America. The captain had first gained fame there, after all.
"Sir, are you saying -"
"I've heard enough from you, Zhang. Gather your team and go." And though he hated being dressed down, hated being addressed by his family name, he decided this was best. He had other things to think about, now - like the idea of solving the American mystery. That was exciting. He would surely win fame today.
And then it occurred to him - his captain had ordered him into a Sonic. "What a ridiculous universe," Zhang thought, as he made his way to his quarters.
"This is fantastic! ... but why is it shaped like Sonic?"
Zhang Li was excited, but stumped. That couldn't be what it was. It was far too large - at least the size of a small hill. The colors were right, though. He turned his head to look at his comrades - they were all looking back at him, with the exception of the cultural officer, who was busily but quietly speaking into a transmitter.
The captain, his face creased into his best likeness of unconcern, asked, "What is a Sonic?" Li almost shook his head with pity - he couldn't believe he was working with such country bumpkins. How did they ever make it out here? Country bumpkins belonged on the earth, with their farms, not up here among the stars.
"Sir, it is an American restaurant chain. You drive into the parking lot, and then they bring you food. The service is fast, and often they have serving girls wearing roller-skates. We have many in the cities."
Nodding sagely, the captain said, "Oh. I see." Li knew he didn't. He was a bumbling fool.
Turning to view the..well, the object, he would have to call it; he said, "So, Sir, why would this be here?" He waited for the foolish response his captain would surely make. Privately, he was burning with curiosity - the astrogeologist in him badly wanted to see what was in this...thing. Could it really be a Sonic? What was it made of? As large as it was, it could probably be mined, and it was surely full of valuable metals. He might be promoted for this discovery! He might even get the attention of senior Party leaders! But he had been on this ship for months now, forced to tolerate this man whom his comrades all looked up to. They were all so backwards. This man had grown up on a pig farm. He was not a stoic leader! He was nothing!
The deck was quiet. Zhang felt his skin crawl a little, and then little beads of sweat crept out under his arms. He wondered if he'd gone too far - the captain might have taken offense, and so it was with some hesitation and caution that he turned his head.
The captain smiled down beautifically from his chair. His fingers splayed out and came together, looking like the fangs of a particularly nasty predator. There they rested, on his desk, and Zhang noticed that they were in fact very muscular. The rumors he'd heard crept into his mind, like spiders from a black pit. Whispers filled his mind - of the captain killing a man bare-handed - that he had once shoved his fingers into a man's eyes, and then held the blinded fellow until his shrieking stopped. After that no one agreed what happened, except that the man had died. Zhang shuddered a little, and hoped it went unnoticed.
The captain finally spoke: "You are the the science officer. You tell me." His smile had gone unbroken. Zhang's heart jumped at each word, anticipating some sort of horror: he was relieved that it had not turned out badly, yet.
"Sir, I," he started, his voice shaking, "...that's not my specialty Sir!"
"Well," the captain said, "it isn't mine, either. If you can't do what you're here for, I fail to see why I should keep you."
"Sir! I...Sir! I'll look into it. Send me in, Sir!" Blackness was devouring Zhang's mind - things had been so good only seconds ago, and now he was facing possible dismissal, or maybe worse. Zhang decided the captain probably did deserve more respect.
"Very well, Zhang." Being addressed by name was never a good sign. "I want you to investigate this for me." That wasn't so bad; in fact, this was a pretty good turn of events. He could investigate the composition of the object! He could prove his usefulness! Zhang's vision became less black, and he noticed the cultural officer scowling, clenching his communicator. That bastard! Zhang hated those Party tools. They were always looking for people to rat out. Well, his luck hadn't run out, yet. He was born lucky. That little rat of a man would have to find someone else to report on for today.
"Even before you said it was an American restaurant, Zhang, I suspected this might have something to do with their accident. For that reason alone it is worthy of investigation." The captain's gaze was faraway, and Zhang wondered if he was remembering the exploratory mission in America. The captain had first gained fame there, after all.
"Sir, are you saying -"
"I've heard enough from you, Zhang. Gather your team and go." And though he hated being dressed down, hated being addressed by his family name, he decided this was best. He had other things to think about, now - like the idea of solving the American mystery. That was exciting. He would surely win fame today.
And then it occurred to him - his captain had ordered him into a Sonic. "What a ridiculous universe," Zhang thought, as he made his way to his quarters.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Random Writings
Oh, it is poetry day! Why? Because. I promise it is not too pretentious or dramatic.
Everything I write
is crap.
Well, at least
I have lots of paper.
Oh, wow, that was really something, wasn't it? heheh.
I hope you weren't disappointed. I had some other stuff to write down, but I've forgotten it now.
Ah, but now it is story time!
The people of a certain land were very peaceful. In defending their peace they shunned outsiders, saying only that they brought war and strife, and all were turned away. These people had good land, with herds and crops both bounteous, and rain often caressed their earth, so that they did not know famine or thirst. They believed, with such good fortune, that surely the gods smiled upon them.
One day they awoke to see a dark wall of clouds, clouds so black and massive that the sky itself was fenced away, accompanied by thunder like a conquering army - it was as though the world itself had come to make war on them. While they were standing in awe, a man made his way along their road, and they did nothing, for they were greatly dumbfounded.
Without introduction, he approached the largest group of them, and called out, "I bear ill tidings from afar - I am almost too late. The storm you see before you is the worst there has ever been, and many lands have joined the sea; many more kingdoms will soon be washed away. There is no time to make boats, to set aside supplies, or to run, for this storm will not soon stop, and it will be known everywhere. Do not despair! For I met a messenger along the road who said he knew a way to save you, a way a few brave souls have followed. He said to me, 'if only their young women and men will give up their lives in sacrifice to the gods, rain shall not fall upon their heads. If they are very devout, as I hear they are, then the gods shall pity them.' That was all his message."
So the people debated for a time, and the man left, saying he must warn other lands. Soon some brave youths offered their lives to appease the gods, and the people were much saddened, but greatly proud of their children, and the debate came to an end. Many of their youths left with the priests, and those who stayed behind bowed their heads in shame. The priests swore, with tears and grim faces, that they would please the gods with the rituals they knew.
With hung heads, the priests returned, and said it was done. There was much weeping, and many openly wondered if the gods' favor would be won, and why they were so cruel. They waited, and the clouds did not lift. Their weeping threatened to drown the land before the storm; many set out to find the messenger, in order that they might kill him. But he was not found, and the people despaired, and the clouds rolled on.
But it did not rain, just as they had been told. They began rejoicing, and prayed, and some questioned whether the rain would have come at all. That night the people slept well, and were much relieved - even those who had lost children for they said to themselves, "it was a worthy sacrifice."
The next day they woke to find their river swollen, full with the drowned. They were not concerned, for these were not their own: they told themselves that these were sinful and ignorant people who had not bothered to save themselves. Still, they were not without pity, and they spent some time looking for the living. All they found was one ancient man, improbably alive, with skin as thin as paper - he was sodden and soggy, and could not possibly have lived, yet the floods had spared him.
He gasped out, quietly, feebly, sadly, "they say that the wisest men are the saddest, and I must be wisest of all. I gave my children over to death to save so many; a wandering traveler said we must, should we want to stop the rain. He spoke truly, for never did a drop fall on our heads, but the truth was much more, and much harder to bear. The waters came from our neighbor's lands and swept all away, though not a drop came to us from the sky. Now I see I am not alone in my foolishness...pity moves my heart, and I fear it is too much for me to bear."
And soon, just as he said, the waters rose, coming crashing down from the mountains, sweeping all away, and the land and all its people were drowned, and never heard from again.
Everything I write
is crap.
Well, at least
I have lots of paper.
Oh, wow, that was really something, wasn't it? heheh.
I hope you weren't disappointed. I had some other stuff to write down, but I've forgotten it now.
Ah, but now it is story time!
The people of a certain land were very peaceful. In defending their peace they shunned outsiders, saying only that they brought war and strife, and all were turned away. These people had good land, with herds and crops both bounteous, and rain often caressed their earth, so that they did not know famine or thirst. They believed, with such good fortune, that surely the gods smiled upon them.
One day they awoke to see a dark wall of clouds, clouds so black and massive that the sky itself was fenced away, accompanied by thunder like a conquering army - it was as though the world itself had come to make war on them. While they were standing in awe, a man made his way along their road, and they did nothing, for they were greatly dumbfounded.
Without introduction, he approached the largest group of them, and called out, "I bear ill tidings from afar - I am almost too late. The storm you see before you is the worst there has ever been, and many lands have joined the sea; many more kingdoms will soon be washed away. There is no time to make boats, to set aside supplies, or to run, for this storm will not soon stop, and it will be known everywhere. Do not despair! For I met a messenger along the road who said he knew a way to save you, a way a few brave souls have followed. He said to me, 'if only their young women and men will give up their lives in sacrifice to the gods, rain shall not fall upon their heads. If they are very devout, as I hear they are, then the gods shall pity them.' That was all his message."
So the people debated for a time, and the man left, saying he must warn other lands. Soon some brave youths offered their lives to appease the gods, and the people were much saddened, but greatly proud of their children, and the debate came to an end. Many of their youths left with the priests, and those who stayed behind bowed their heads in shame. The priests swore, with tears and grim faces, that they would please the gods with the rituals they knew.
With hung heads, the priests returned, and said it was done. There was much weeping, and many openly wondered if the gods' favor would be won, and why they were so cruel. They waited, and the clouds did not lift. Their weeping threatened to drown the land before the storm; many set out to find the messenger, in order that they might kill him. But he was not found, and the people despaired, and the clouds rolled on.
But it did not rain, just as they had been told. They began rejoicing, and prayed, and some questioned whether the rain would have come at all. That night the people slept well, and were much relieved - even those who had lost children for they said to themselves, "it was a worthy sacrifice."
The next day they woke to find their river swollen, full with the drowned. They were not concerned, for these were not their own: they told themselves that these were sinful and ignorant people who had not bothered to save themselves. Still, they were not without pity, and they spent some time looking for the living. All they found was one ancient man, improbably alive, with skin as thin as paper - he was sodden and soggy, and could not possibly have lived, yet the floods had spared him.
He gasped out, quietly, feebly, sadly, "they say that the wisest men are the saddest, and I must be wisest of all. I gave my children over to death to save so many; a wandering traveler said we must, should we want to stop the rain. He spoke truly, for never did a drop fall on our heads, but the truth was much more, and much harder to bear. The waters came from our neighbor's lands and swept all away, though not a drop came to us from the sky. Now I see I am not alone in my foolishness...pity moves my heart, and I fear it is too much for me to bear."
And soon, just as he said, the waters rose, coming crashing down from the mountains, sweeping all away, and the land and all its people were drowned, and never heard from again.
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