Epilogue - Rewriting Personal Myths

23.5 hours door to door. Taipei, Hong Kong, San Fran, Seattle. And business class is the only way to cross the Pacific. Completely stretched out, full-length comforter, eye pillow and edible food served upon awakening. Ahh!!! (Once I snuck into the first class bathroom. Spacious with a touch of elegance. Someone puts paper toilet seat protectors on between usages -- still wondering how they keep an eye on that.) 30 minute mob scene getting through customs (retinal scans and thumbprint analysis on non-native born). Then a choice -- slum with the riff raft in coach on a ready-to-leave flight to Seattle or hang with the upper crust for a first class seat 2.5 hours later. Back with the masses where I belong got me to Sharon that much earlier. A quick taste of Americana as the Yanks beat up on the Angels before I crashed in the 4th inning just before 7. Slept on the sofa in front of a wall of windows to watch night and day unfold. (A real treat after my windowless room in Taipei.)

And so I'm back. Unwinding at the same time my mind is trying to catalogue, organize, and make sense of everything. Suspect that will continue into the ensuing days and weeks. But today, as my Taiwan Adventure begins to recedes, here's the broad strokes I see written in the sand:

Foresight is better than hindsight. If I knew what was in store, I doubt that I would have taken this trip. Way too daunting. Way too much work. But with the blindness of foresight, I stumbled onto an unexpected richness of experience that will be available to me from here on out. Taking each step without knowing is the adventure. The learning and figuring out where those steps might lead, that comes next.

Always judge a book by its cover. My judgment about something is equally as interesting as the thing itself. Both are there to explore. There were a number of things about Taipei that were off-putting, frightening, just not right. It was those things that gave me the opportunity to become aware of my expectations, fears and prejudices, at how I think things should be. (Not that I'm going to change any of them mind you.) The trick is not to let my judgment keep me from reading the book. Then, both are lost to me.

It's a huge world after all. There is absolutely nothing small about this world. Planes might help me get there faster and technology might help me stay in touch (and I am so thankful for Skype and the Internet), but it's the diversity that makes this world so vast. And for me, especially after this trip, the wonder is in the diversity. I hope the world never gets small.

And with that my Taiwan Adventure concludes . . .

Homeward Bound

Food is coming to me. I don’t have to look for it. Noodles at Taipei airport (best bowl I’ve had), indian curry on the plane and pineapple fried rice in Hong Kong. International cuisine across the globe. And I’m eating everything. Can’t believe how hungry I am.

Mostly I’m noticing, the space, the pace and the quiet. Never thought of airports as low key. (Though once I got to Hong Kong, no one honors the “stand to the right rule” on escalators). In Taiwan I was feeling how little personal space there was. I asked my one-on-one teacher about that. She said that she understood the question – but that personal space was a “foreigner’s” idea. For her, personal space was something inside and there’s plenty of it. I'll miss those conversations.

Off to San Fran. (wonder what they are serving on the flight)

Eve of Departure

I laid down to sleep last night, and it struck me. “I’m ready! It’s time to go.” 3 days earlier than originally planned. 25 days since leaving home. A little indecision, not much, followed by a flurry of activity to confer with Sharon, change tickets and figure out what I need to do to wrap things up. Past 1 AM when my head hit pillow. Restless night with over-tiredness and anticipation taking turns keeping me awake. I like not counting the days ‘til departure (dead time in purgatory) – just get going.

So many things are done differently over here. One that I really like is that the person doing the leaving throws the party. I took my one-on-one teacher out to lunch and bought a Black Forest Cake for my classmates. (Now even the French gal and Vietnamese gal have a certain affection for me.) And I’m leaving in the nick of time. Today the teacher kicked it up a notch and left me in the dust. It was nice of them to coddle me for the past three weeks. With me in their rear view mirror, they’re getting down to business.

Comfort food for dinner at my favorite American restaurant in the ShiDa district of Taipei -- 2 eggs over hard, grilled cheese sandwich, hash browns and a coke. Breakfast and lunch for dinner! Wonderful!

On this adventure, I was so ill-prepared for my conscious objective – learning to speak Chinese in a Chinese city – and so well prepared for my unconscious objective – watching myself experience a situation for which I’m so unprepared. Both have left me a little ragged. My early departure makes good sense – I’ll need more than a weekend to decompress before re-engaging in work on Monday.

Another 24 hour trip ahead. I appreciate my foresight in splurging travel miles on Business Class. I may post entries in airports along the way if there’s something to be said. And will wrap up the blog with an epilogue upon my return to hearth and home.

Eating Out - An Early Retrospective

In my constant search for a meal that I can & will eat. I’ve come to realize that Taipei has more eating establishments per capita than anywhere else in the world (warning – unsubstantiated fact). A statistically insignificant number of discussions with those few that can understand me suggest that everyone in Taipei is way to busy to cook, so a good number of them eat every single meal out. It appears that free market economics has jumped in to meet that demand. From an MBA’s perspective (which of course I'm not), here’s the market segmentation of food suppliers to the Taipei market:

The mundane: Department stores (yup!), 7-11s, MacDonalds, Pizza Hut, Mos Burger, Starbucks, and Pastry shops (who knew about Taipei’s sweet tooth. And the number of these shops would rival any French city).

Transient push cart vendors: Like those that sell roasted chestnuts and hot dogs on the streets of New York. Seen everywhere from alley to boulevards. Grab and run. Egg-meat breakfast buns, noodles, sweets, sandwiches. Constantly morphing depending upon time and taste.

Semi-permanent open-air stalls: A set-up akin to our county fairs. Mostly in the lanes and alleys. Seating on wooden crates, plastic chairs or not at all. Cauldrons of red, green and yellow broths bubbling up who knows what (I don’t ask – they don’t tell). Half chickens stripped and hung. Hands mincing vegetables, meats and fish.

Thread Bare basic dining: The heart and soul of Taipei indoor eating. Some cafeteria buffet style, others not. Quality food without ambiance. Family owned and run. Curb appeal that scares away most foreigners – but it’s the mainstay of the natives. Menus broad as taste buds. (Can’t think of anything in the States that compares.)

Restaurants – like you’ll find in any city. Prices from reasonable to excessive. Menus following ethnic lines with fusion thrown in. Strongest gravitational pull for westerners.

At some I like to dine. At others I wish I hadn’t.

There's No Place Like Home

The new Taipei.

It took me 3 weeks, but I found it. Reminds me of downtown Bellevue, just a tad bit grander. Polished marble and glass buildings rising out of the sugar cane fields of yesteryear (the 1980s). Too many to count, and some not willing to share a city block. Open space. Greenery. And a 16 theatre multi-plex. (I’m thinking of cutting class one day this week.) Not a single lane or alley so characteristic of this city. A youth group putting on a street fair promoting healthy living – balloons, speakers blaring, dancing and pavilion tents. Everything so clean and tidy.

The beacon is the 101 story, Taipei 101. Tallest building in the world, at least until the one in Dubai is christened. This one comes complete with an attached 6 story enclosed mall, that doesn’t open until a very fashionable 11:00 (I got there at 10:10). Pretty much all the stores were familiar. Would only know this was Asia by the scale and the food court. Shopping in a tux wouldn’t be overdressed. Headed to the food court with hopes of good ol’ American grub. But the pickings were slim. I couldn’t help myself, I went for Subway. And they make the exact same bad sandwich over here. Very unsatisfying.

Going back to the hotel, I walked through the area in which I got lost on my very first day. I remembered sweating profusely, map in hand and no landmark did I see. How could I miss it? 4 blocks away, spiring into the heavens like Jack’s Beanstalk was Taipei 101. Amazing what you see with different eyes.

Full Circle

There's nothing like getting out to the country. I felt the wind find its way through me. Heard birds, rippling leaves, water over rocks. Took off my shoes and soaked my legs in a hot spring. Refreshing for body and soul. Didn't realize I was so tight. Big city life takes its toll.

Beitou is the site of natural hot springs. During their occupation in the early 1900s, the Japanese commercialized it into public baths. After their departure, the buildings fell into disrepair until a high school field trip came upon them (no kidding), petitioned for historical status and everything was revitalized in the 1990s. Now it’s promoted as a resort town calling itself Xin Beitou (New Beitou). They send a Disneyland-ish subway car to the main line to pick people up and bring them to town.

Xin Beitou sports a green-built library (first one in east Asia), the original Japanese-built public bathhouse (restored as a museum), public hot spring baths and numerous hotels, as well as dense commercial and residential infrastructure that seems omnipresent wherever I go. 5 minutes walk outside town is a small lake (pond actually). Hot enough for people to hard boil eggs - and they do - though now it's discouraged as too many people fall in and burn themselves (but that may be an urban legend).

So little time – so much to do. Since I may never make it to India or Nepal, I spent the waning afternoon at a Buddhist temple of some renown back in Taipei. The Longshan temple. Originally built in the early 1700s (before the great USofA was even on the map). Has been destroyed and rebuilt after fires, earthquakes and US bombing at the end of WWII (suspected the Japanese were hiding armaments inside). I stumbled onto a worship service. Felt voyeuristic, but what a sensory experience!!!

The temple is a walled, very small oasis surrounded and dwarfed by the looming metropolis of Taipei. The architecture is visually stunning. Japanese flowing drain-tile roofs with ornate, bright colored swirls and dragons. A large, almost empty courtyard inside the first gate, bounded by pond & garden on one side and on the other, a 20 foot high rock face visible beneath a thin, cascading waterfall. Through the second gate . . .

An inner courtyard, teeming with worshippers, kneeling, sitting, standing and moving towards an alter prominently displaying a golden Buddha. Many holding lit incense sticks – 2 feet in length, some by the dozen, and bowing (at interval of their own choosing). Others lighting red candles, thick as dynamite, to be placed on pedestals. (A little tricky to move through this crowd without getting singed). Some with hands pressed together in prayer and others with an open chant book. Tables to hold offerings (flowers, fruit, cakes, etc.) randomly arranged. And almost everyone chanting, but with one voice – one rich, earthy voice. Not loud or strong, but solid and grounding. I’ve heard about resonance, I understand the principle, but I’ve never felt it before. As I walked amongst that crowd, the rhythm of the chant found its way inside of me. I felt the chant as if I was chanting, but I wasn’t. I was mesmerized – almost thoughtless but aware. Just like the morning wind in Xin Beitou, the chant found its way through me and, for a while, stayed.

Life on the Streets (Specifically Zhong Xiao Dong Lu)

A current of people. Non-Stop. Constantly. Always in motion. Some diverting into stores, others lost to the alleys. Replaced. Instantly from who knows where.

Goods for sale. Splayed out right there on the sidewalk, a makeshift table, or a platform jury-rigged to the back seat of a scooter. Every day different stuff in different places. Earings and bracelets, flip flops, umbrellas. Sweaters and kids back packs. Magnifying glasses and hair brushes. You name it. If it's not here today, it will be tomorrow or one block over. Five and dime quality. Some better. Claiming real estate outside a chic boutique or a high end department store.

Homeless, virtually absent. In all my walking, I've only seen two (that fit my stereotype) and always in the exact same place unless it's raining. Then to the protection of a close by eave or overhang. Unobtrusive, never asking for money. It's the buddhist monks who beg. In khaki, grey or orange robes, bowing and chanting. With shaved heads and bronze bowls.

The maimed and grossly disfigured. Faces scared with burns or features absent. The limbless. And the even more heart wrenching. Fetal development gone horribly wrong but born anyway with the breadth of life. And all of these are selling. Gum, toothbrushes, combs.

And the current moves in, between and through all of this. Mindless and mindful. All the time

GroundHog Day

Things that seemed so foreign and overwhelming, now seem so normal. Even new sights, sounds and setbacks -- I seem to take in stride. My heart and step don’t miss a beat as I come upon them (or they come upon me). Each day seemed infinite in the beginning and today there just isn’t enough time in each one. At dinner tonight, I was sitting in a restaurant that I ate at on Day 3 and it seemed so completely different. It’s hard to describe – but there was more clarity while I sat there, like things were in slower motion (and it wasn’t drug induced – the threat of capital punishment is a pretty strong deterrent). This seems to be a more common experience these past couple of days. What happened?

My best guess . . . I finally gave in!

That first little while, a conflict was in full tilt. At one level, I could see, appreciate and wonder at the uniqueness around me, but at another level I struggled with them. I wanted the new experiences, and wanted some control over how I experienced them. Enough was enough, but they just kept on coming. This vacation (for lack of a better word) was going on way too long and no end was in sight. Home and the old way was too far away to hold out for. There was no safe haven – absolutely nothing in my environment was like I wanted it to be – not where I slept, not where I ate, not where I spent my time. My coping mechanisms were in overdrive – but failing miserably. I think the internal struggle was hard work and made for long days.

In this case, Taipei was bigger and stronger than I was (and that’s hard to admit). This city was not going to change. My charm and force of will was not going to prevail. Some part of me must have realized that I could keep struggling or find a way to be in the flow with it. (Fortunately, that latter part has carried the day.) This is what it is and I can't change it.

(Just finished my laundry and put on warm pajama. AAAH! Nothing like it – Oh no, another twitter)

This experience leads me to believe that it is possible for me to find a flow with just about anything. (That’s a pretty crazy thought.) Just notice my struggle (an art in it’s own right I suspect) and decide I don’t want to struggle for control, my way, whatever (clearly easier said than done). The choice is all mine!

I see the lesson and know that my habit is deeply engrained. I appreciate the possibility, but the path through is still obscured in a haze. And even if I find my way in similar future struggles (which I know await), are there situations where the objective is worth the struggle? Is there a Taipei that should be conquered, rather than a Taipei that I want to conquer? If so, will I know it when I see it?

p.s. – still can’t understand or speak this language!!!!!

Home Away From Home - Part I

I’ve gotten quite attached to the quirkiness of my hotel. I can’t imagine staying anyplace else in Taipei.

In my windowless room, there is no dawn (or dusk or high noon for that matter). I typically awaken to a waltz of dueling saws from the floor above, the hacking up of phlegm a couple of rooms away, and the clinking, clanking, clucking of the maids up and down the hallways. Here, an alarm clock is an unnecessary accessory.

The hotel is on the 13th of 14 floors. And only the 13th. The elevator is just off a main boulevard tucked around the corner from a Starbucks and a restaurant – as yet untested by me. In daylight hours, the ride up and down is uneventful. A few other guests and workmen (with wheelbarrows) doing reconstruction on the 11th and 14th floors. It’s a completely different experience once the sun sets. Strikingly beautiful women, all slender, all wearing something extremely tight. They ride backwards, facing me and the mirror, touching up cosmetics and making fine adjustments to their evening wear no matter what’s out of place. Their destination - the 7 or 9th floors. As the doors open, I catch a glimpse of 3 women in formal gowns sitting behind a bank of phones and two women on either side, each with a hand held device that is quickly applied to the forehead of each girl coming of the elevator. I’m captivated and dying with curiosity. It all feels secretive, seductively Kubrickesque (‘Eyes Wide Shut’) and public at the same time. I haven’t yet worked up the nerve to step off with the landing party and discover this new world.

In contrast, the elevator on my floor empties into a “waiting for godot” ish chamber with a faded linoleum floor. A washer and dryer face the elevator just off to the left, shoved back against a waist high concrete wall. The hot air duct for the dryer hangs limply over that wall into a chasm, 13 stories deep, ending in a metal mesh net just above the ground below. The linoleum floor creeps along the perpendicular side of the concrete wall for a good 30 yards ending at a motion sensitive sliding glass door that gives way to the hotel's small gathering room and front desk, illuminated with 60 watt bulbs.

Two countertops, 5 feet or so in length, on walls at a 90 degree angle are the only defining feature and function of the gathering room. Upon them rests two toasters, a coffee maker, breakfast from 7:30 – 10:30 AM, and afternoon tea from 4:30 – 5:30. (I’ve never been around when tea is served). Breakfast consists of a variety of vegetables (some western, some Asian) and a bowl of Thousand Island dressing with which to make a salad. Also peanuts, salty noodles, hard boiled eggs, deli meat that I’ve never seen in a grocery store, pork dumplings and toasting bread with single size servings of smuckers jam and some kind of butter. Paying guests must take the food back to their rooms to eat. It’s obvious that the cockroach that I saw wasn’t required to do the same. It’s not that I mind sharing breakfast with a cockroach. It’s that I mine KNOWING that he and I are eating together. It’s a tough call for me – getting up early and spending money to eat on the streets or getting up later and eating food that is free to me, as well as the other inhabitants.

The third wall of the gathering room is shared with the front office. The ‘front desk’ itself is a large window size opening, chest high, looking into that office. The office appears to be manned 24x7, though I have no idea what happens out there once I hunker down for the night. Two gals alternate 15 hours days (7:30AM – 10:30 PM) with periodic two days off in a row. Time off and breaks are covered by an older guy with mutton chop sideburns and a young up and comer. Hotel keys are left with the front desk staff upon leaving the hotel. So they definitely monitor coming and going.

The charm of the hotel starts with the front desk staff. Professional attire, personal faces. Our dialogue is sparse at best, except for one of the two girls who continues to expand my vocabulary 3-4 words a days. With the others, it’s a short phrase and a smile at greetings and departures. They change my money, keep swapping my valuables in and out of their safe, give me tokens for the washer dryer, sell me washing machine soap and try to respond to my almost daily requests for directions and other type of concierge services. Upon arriving in Taipei, one of my early fears was whether anyone would notice if anything happened to me. I now take comfort in believing that they would. (that fear and that comfort are a topic unto themselves)

To be continued at some point in the future … the room itself!

The Show Must Go On

Heavy homework night!

Working together, 3 classmates and I have to write a 2-3 minute play (based on our lessons of the past 2.5 weeks), practice it and perform it on Friday. And Chinese is our only common language (rudimentary at best for some.) Today was the planning session. To look into someone else’s face and know that they don’t have a clue what I’m saying is a real trip. There’s absolutely no hiding it, no matter how polite they try to be. Everything in me wants to take charge, get this thing organized and bring it to fruition. Imagine my inner strife as a type-A overachiever, with a Shakespearian mind and a pre-school vocabulary. The meatiness of my Pulitzer ideas dummied down to verbal pablum. And it’s still a challenge getting them across. (My limitations, not theirs). I have such appreciation for the patience of my classmates. (Well some of them. Just not the gal from France and the one from Vietnam. They must be soooo relieved to be in the other group.)

Pandora's Box

We export more than I had imagined.

Of course there are all the products – no surprises. Cosmetics, clothes, food franchises (McDonalds, Pizza Hut, Starbucks, and the list goes on). Small Fords, like the Focus. Nothing larger, no F150s. Haven’t seen any other types of American cars. (And no Humvees, SUVs of any make or model.)

We export language and nuance. English is mandatory curriculum in all schools starting in junior high. (They even use our textbooks.) Some teach it earlier. But even aside from formal language training, I notice that English words are finding their way directly into the everyday vocabulary over here. Of course, bye-bye and email immediately come to mind. But it’s common for me to hear English slang pop up in the middle of a conversation that I’m overhearing (but in no way understanding). Even on TV. It happens so quickly it’s almost subliminal. Did they just say that?

We export technology, science and medicine. On the subway I see Med students reading textbooks and journal articles in English. At my school, I walk by classes that are learning about our operating systems and hardware.

What’s really surprising is that we export customs, holidays, celebrations. My Chinese language conversation text (no English) has two pages of sentence patterns built around Valentines Day. That was a shocker! I asked my one-on-one teacher about it. Seems as though Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas (Santa Claus and all), January 1 New Year and Valentines Day are celebrated over here. Just about everything that we celebrate except for President’s Day and the 4th of July. In talking with my teacher, it’s clear that these celebrations don’t have the same meaning that they do for us. (Of course the cynic in me sees the US marketing machine creating want in foreign lands.) But as I talk to my teachers, classmates and others that I encounter, there seems to be an active curiosity about the customs, holidays, etc. It’s like they try them on, take what they want and leave the rest behind. Our exports don’t replace any of their customs, holidays or celebrations– they just add to the richness of what they already have. Pretty cool.

And the narcissist in me is reinforced. I am/we are the center of the world – just like I thought, just as it should be. Everyone wants what we have. But then I begin to wonder – Hey, wait a minute! As a society, what do we import from this part of the world? What do we try on and check out the fit? What richness do we add to our commerce, language, science, technology, medicine, customs, holidays or celebrations – besides an occasional night out at a Chinese restaurant? I don’t like where this stream of thought is going ………..

Socialization 101

There is an underlying orderliness to this city that’s not initially apparent.

Taipei has over 2.6 million people jammed into 105 square miles (24,761 people per square mile) and I can’t remember seeing a stray piece of garbage anywhere. In main boulevards or back alleys. Buses, subways or taxis. Seattle has 580,000 people spread out over 91 square miles (6,373 people per square mile) and there’s litter floating around just about everywhere. Strangest part – in Taipei I have the hardest time finding a garbage can – in starbucks, in my school, along the street, or in subways. Every shop gives you a receipt, and there’s always a food wrapper, and I have to carry them to my hotel to throw them away because there’s never a garbage can when I need one. What does everyone else do with there’s?

There are escalators all over the city – in the subways, department stores, major hotels, and large office buildings. And on every single one of them, everyone either stands in place on the right hand side or walks on the left hand side. In the middle of rush hour (which goes on for several hours) a human flood of people pour out of each subway car and pool by the bottom of the escalator waiting their turn to hitch a ride on the right hand side. If you are willing to walk it (up or down as the case may be), the left side is always in non-stop motion. I’m in that subway system multiple times a day, every day and only twice in two weeks have I ever encountered anyone standing still on the left hand side. Once was an elderly lady with a cane in her right hand so she had to move to the left to hold on. Without a word and instantaneously, the right hand side of her step was left vacant so that the flow of left hand traffic could move around her. The other time was me groping around in my pocket for my subway card. No one said anything and no one cleared a right away around me – and I got the message loud and clear never to do that again.

The longer I’m here I begin to notice the constant reminders of proper behavior – mostly having to do with hygiene and the public good. Hand sanitizers right as you walk through the main doors of most major buildings. Huge, attention grabbing signs depicting the right way to cough, blow your nose, and even talk to someone in the subway. On-going announcements of the $7500 fine for eating, drinking, chewing gum or beattlenuts in the subway system. Most memorable will always be the loudspeaker announcement as my plane was landing in Taipei. We were informed that drug trafficking is a serious offence subject to capital punishment. (You should have seen how the flight attendant pantomimed that …..…. Just kidding about the pantomime!)

p.s.

On occasion, like yesterday, I may post two entries on the same day. However, when you log onto the blog, you only see the most recent entry. So if you want to squeeze all the juice out of this blog, be sure check the index to make sure you didn’t miss one.

Trekking into the Past

Headed out to the ‘burbs by subway and bus to see a museum. I’m a master of the subway system but a virgin to buses. Getting on is easy – it’s getting off at the right stop that’s tricky. No worries I thought. Just ask the driver if he stops near the museum and he’ll remember me (being a Westerner of course) and let me know when we’re there. As I’m sitting in the bus, I began to wonder if an Asian with no language skills taking a bus in Seattle has that same level of narcissistic confidence. Well, the driver must have been busy – because he forgot to let me know to get off. Thank God I was smart enough to follow the crowd.

The Palace Museum. Contains the artwork of China from 8000 BC to 1921. Imagine the depth of those roots. 10 millennium. That’s knowing from whence you came.

Take a look at a map. Note the size and population of China – where this stuff had its origins. Note the size and population of Taiwan – where it didn’t. Interesting that all this stuff is here and not there. Seems as though Chiang Kai-shek loaded it all onto ships when he fled from China in 1949 after Mao kicked his butt. Good for the Taiwanese. Bad for the Chinese. Strange, and unfortunate, that the most populated nation on earth is separated from this wealth of their history. What an unusual dynamic between these two lands.

10 millennium of stuff. The museum can’t display all of it at once. Impossible for me to take in what was displayed. 3.5 hours and I was on overload (but then I’ve never been known for a long attention span). The most striking impression - not a single thing was framed. I’ve been to the Louvre, the Prado and our National Gallery (just to name a few he says smugly) and everything is framed. In this museum, all the paintings are on scrolls. It’s just odd.

From ancient bronze work inscribed with hieroglyphic ancestors of the present day characters to an interactive, electronic replica of a famous 5.28 meter long painted scroll depicting a scene by scene panorama of city life in the early 1100s (I lost count after 814 peoples, 28 boats, 60 animals, 30 buildings, 20 vehicles, nine sedan chairs, and 170 trees) My thoughts, impressions and images can go on and on. Here are a few that really captivated me:

• A large olive pit carved out to look like a covered boat. In it were 8 people and furnishings appropriate to a leisure boat in the 1700s. And a poem was inscribed on the bottom of the boat.
• A glass snuff bottle (western influence) 2 inches high that was hand painted on the inside (in reverse of course) so that it had the right perspective viewed from the outside. The scene is a tavern and courtyard in a beautiful landscape setting complete with people and animals
• 10 delicately carved miniature ivory boxes, each with an attached ivory chain with moveable links. Some have ivory carved contents that can be removed from the box. And all ten boxes and their contents fit into a single carved box 1 inch by 2 inches by ½ inch.
  

And like any museum, this one had its share of young kids, with attention spans even shorter than mine, who kept resisting their parent’s best efforts at engaging them. I guess that phenomenon is not just endemic to the states. They and I were ready to leave.

No longer the familiar

Just now I'm using a fork for the first time in 2 weeks. The weight of it feels odd in my hand. I reached for it without thinking and then the realization hit. I looked at it to see what it was. (I'm sitting in an Italian restaurant eating putenesca -- or what passes for it here in Taipei -- and typing this into my i-everything.)

Oh no! Would this be considered a twitter? I swore I would never stoop that low and here I am along with Ashton Kuscher and Demi Moore.

Instantaneous Transport

Tonight I ate like I was back in the states. Over ordering -- the perfect excuse to eat way past my full point (I was raised to eat everything on my plate –and I can’t let my parents down). Now I sit with an uncomfortably heavy belly, a very satisfied palate and a slight tinge of guilt. I met up with a friend (San Fran native) of a mutual friend and, ever so quickly, everything foreign about the past two weeks dropped away - language, food selection and eating awareness. Our common language and experience was the ticket to the familiar. For two hours I was sitting in a restaurant in the International District of Seattle and not the ShiDa district of Taipei.

Thank god re-entry back to where I am was easy. Now, even this is comfortable.

Bozo Takes On A Burden

It’s not the events in my life that exhaust me as much as my indecision about those events. The events pass. My indecision lingers.

When I was a kid, I had one of those Bozo punching bags. You know, hit bozo in the nose, he falls over, hits the floor and comes right back up. Punch him again. It was a lot of fun. But now I see it from Bozo’s perspective. . . My one-on-one teacher says something to me for the 9th time and I can’t remember what it means. Bam! I hit the floor and right back up. My classmates draw straws for who will have the conversation with me this time. Bam! I hit the floor and right back up. The teacher corrects every single one of my tones as wrong. Bam! I hit the floor and right back up. Yesterday, I hit hard and wasn’t so sure I wanted to get up again. And indecision was off and running. Continue language study versus drop out and explore the city. A million factors to be weighed, balanced and recalculated. What it means for the future, what it means for the past. Will that magic moment of comprehension ever happen? What if it doesn’t? How I will feel one way? How will I feel the other? On.. and on ... I was beat – leaking air, down for the count.

This morning, my one-on-one teacher said something to me, and I understood it right away. Bozo’s back up again.

Blog-istics

Nothing I write is based in fact or fiction. It is only my experience of this city and the musing of my overactive mind. Someone who has lived here may say – “what the #%@% is he talking about – it ain’t like that at all”. You may come here and expect it to be just like I described – and curse me out for leading you astray. Weird huh?

Navigating the blog may be getting tricky. Some have written to say - ”hey, I can’t find my favorite episode”. The navigation tool is in the bottom right hand corner (as you look at it) titled “Blog Archive”. Click on 2009 to see October and September. Click on October or September to see the entries for that month. Select your favorite. The most recent entry should always show up when you open or refresh the page. If it doesn’t work this way, please let me know so I can get out good instructions. (wec3@viaconsulting,com) FYI, with this entry you should see 18 next to 2009.

Exhausted

And maybe the hot pot dinner isn’t sitting just right. That's what I get for eating something I didn’t recognize.

The Yin and Yang of It

I find I'm falling into routines. Routine deadens my awareness – what I’m willing to see, to notice, to experience. There’s a lot of comfort for me in routine, but I have to fight against it or everything will start looking and feeling the same. And that’s definitely not what I want. It’s a delicate balance between comfort and awareness, with comfort always tugging at me the hardest.

The weather has finally given this city a respite. Oppressive heat, dense humidity, freak me out earthquake, umbrella destroying winds and rain, and now a gentle breeze. It was nice to walk after dinner as the gathering dusk turned neon. This city is such an enigma to me. I stroll down these vast boulevards, some with huge arching trees separating and shading the two rivers of traffic, and I could be in any large, cosmopolitan city in the world. Shops, restaurants, hotels like I’ve seen in New York, Paris, Barcelona. For me the uniqueness of this city is defined in the dense, lush underbrush of lanes and alleys, running like rabbit holes every 10-15 yards off the boulevards and thoroughfares --- every single one of them, and all over the city (not just in one or two areas that tourists are supposed to avoid.). The deeper down those rabbit holes I go, the rawer it gets. Like an archeological dig of the human condition, all exposed and visible. And it’s not just the black and white (like I saw in mainland china), it’s got all the grays in between. In these rabbit holes run the lifeblood of this city. I’m attracted and frightened at the same time.

Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus

My private teacher (I need all the help I can get) gave me the scoop on the Harvest Moon festival that happened here over the weekend. It’s a very ancient festival with two aspects to it, BBQing and burning paper money (not the real stuff in use day to day). The BBQing is kind of like our fourth of July – just without the pyrotechnics. Family and friends get together, break out the ol’ barbie, and sit around grilling food and looking at the moon. Burning the paper money is about worshiping the moon – or more specifically the fairies that live on the moon. Once burned, the essence of the money finds its way to the fairies. My teacher said that just about everyone does the BBQing, but very few people burn the money anymore. When I asked her why, she said “When Armstrong landed on the moon, everybody realized that there aren’t fairies on the moon – so now most people just BBQ”.

I was stunned and a little bit saddened. I watched that landing in my family’s living room on a black and white, very grainy TV console. There was something awe inspiring about that moment even to a pre-teenage boy. It was the culmination of a time of hope and focus for our country. And on the other side of the world from me, that same moment shattered an ancient belief, firmly held by zillions of people. I had to stop for a moment and take that all in. What must it have been like from their perspective?

You know what, there still are fairies on the moon. All that commotion of afterburners and lunar excursion modules frightened them, so they hid. (Someone comes into your town, guns a blazing, what are you going to do?). Neil Armstrong never lit up a BBQ (the oxygen situation made that problematic) or even put out a nice spread. Nope – he just took a giant step for mankind and split. By the time the fairies worked up the nerve to come out, he and all the cameras had already gone.

There is still magic in this world and on the moon – science may obfuscate it but not dispel it. I hope the people here keep burning that money – those fairies need it!

Dining (or not) in Taipei

Aside from the language of course, my biggest challenge (and source of frustration) is not finding the restaurant at which I had planned to eat. You’d think it would be a simple process – but it isn’t. Here’s why . . .

Take 117 SW Baden street as an example of a typical US address. With a street name and a number you can usually pinpoint the restaurant to a single and very specific store front. (The hardest part, if there is one, is finding the road itself.) On occasion, the address gets you to the front on a building but you still need to make your way up to a higher or lower floor. A quick peek at the sign in the lobby and up you go. In no time at all, you are sitting down, napkin in lap, menu in hand, drink on the way.

Here’s an example of a Taipei Address. 13F , No 197, Sec 4, Zhong Xiao East Rd (not always written out in that order. Now cut that address and paste it into a google map and see what happens). Roads can go on and on, so they break them into sections. The section tells you where to look for the specific number. (Be careful, there might be a No 197 in section 1, section 2, section 3 and section 4). So you need to find the road (no easy task when you can’t read Chinese characters), find the right section, find the right number and, once is a while, you are there.

But here’s the catch. You might just be walking up section 4 of Zhong Xiao E Road , salivating as you pass 191, 193, 195, cross a lane and find yourself next to 199. (*^$^&##). 197 is tucked somewhere back up that lane. (Now, lanes here are not the idyllic setting you might find on the English countryside. They are more like the patchwork quilt of shops, pubs and rooming houses in the Harry Potter movies where the wizards buy their accessories – just not as glamorous.) When you walk up the lane (which usually goes on for blocks), it’s crisscrossed by any number of smaller alleys that are lined with 1-3 story buildings (I use that term loosely) each guarded by a battalion of those dam scooters. That restaurant could be in any one of those building on any one of the floors. And the signage is not great. If there is a sign – it’s typically written in Chinese characters which, once again, I don’t read so well. Worse yet – I don’t pronounce the characters so well either. I may be asking for ‘The Delicious Noodle House” and what I say is “Is there a place to eat horse dung around here”.

Too often I’ve trudged back home, gotten out the wedge of cheese and dried apricots I’ve tucked away in the fridge and made a sandwich with a cranberry scone recently purchased from Starbucks.

Yikes!!!!

Last night 2:40 AM, this building shook for a good 30-40 seconds. It creaked and swayed. The force it must have taken to do that to a 14 story building that’s about 1/3 of a block long. Being in a windowless room, I have no idea what’s happening outside. Weird feeling!

Sights and Sounds . . .

It’s the festival of the Harvest Moon. Everywhere I went, all sorts of homemade and commercial grills barbequing. I saw wire baskets, metal trashcans and Weber type knock-offs. Even along the major thoroughfare outside my hotel. 10:00 at night, with only the sidewalk separating them from Starbucks and a high end clothing store (both of which are still hopping with business), 10-12 people sitting on ice chests grilling strips of bacon, half chickens, beef kabobs and eating moon cakes. When the lights go down, this city knows how to party!!

While doing my laundry this morning, I translated the Harvest Moon love song. Getting a handle on the language is like solving a mystery. I continue to be fascinated with it. Give me a written text and I’m instantly engaged. But when I hear the language, my brain instantly shuts down, stops on a dime, deer in the headlights. It’s a little disconcerting to go into a conversation knowing that will happen. But I just got to go for it.

Headed to the technology market place to find a replacement for my headset that is starting to flake. A multi-block maze of stores, cubbyholes and peddlers selling chips and resistors to name brand electronics and just about everything in between. (There is a certain convenience in having everything in one place.) Start to finish it was a 2 hour process and I walked away with three new pieces of information: 1) Most of the headsets used in Taiwan are the 2 wire plug-in and not the USB kind. 2) There are only 3 choices for a USB headset – 2 from Logitech ($30-$40 American) and 1 from Lobos ($15 American). 3) How to say “a cheaper one” in Chinese -- a very elegant use of the character pronounced 'de'. (#1 & #2 are for Larry. #3 is for Dan, Craig, Daniel and Hueiling.)

I absolutely, positively hate shopping. And today I had to do it for a piece of technology, in Chinese. My reward was to be Indian food at a restaurant, recommended by a guide book, given to me by my good friend John who picked it up at a bookstore in Oakland California. My route to the restaurant was all mapped out and handwritten on a cheat sheet so I wouldn’t look so much like a tourist walking down the street in my “Bank of Dad” tee-shirt (present from my sons) khaki shorts and nike shoes. (I have given up trying to dress like a native. Too hot! And there's no way I fit in anyway. But I am giving American fashion a very bad name.) I crossed a street, turned a corner and there in front of me, lying outside a convenience store, next to the jawbreaker machines was pig. Not a piglet. A full grown pig. It had to be at least 5 feet long and 300 pounds of very ugly pork. No leash, no one around it. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it as I walked into one of those ever annoying scooters setting off the burglar alarm. I got the picture to prove it.

But the Indian food was not to be. Once again I couldn’t find the restaurant. I’ll save that one for tomorrow. It’s a dry, complicated explanation.

Oh yeah – so far only minimal signs of a Typhoon.

I have absolutely no control over anything over here!!!!

Learning this language seems to take hard work and soft ears. (Maybe that’s true for any language.) The hard work is the doing part – the diligence, the focus, the practice. I got that down pat. The soft ears is the not doing part. (How’s that for assimilating eastern wisdom). And for me, therein lies the rub. My very patient teacher tries to explain that it’s about sitting back, gently listening, and letting the meaning behind the sounds settle in, rather than trying to figure out each distinct word that is said in every single sentence. (Not easy for a type A, OCD, controlling kind of guy.) I guess it’s like music. The harmony is there without specifically identifying every chord and key. And trying to name every single note (a flat here, b sharp there, etc.), risks missing the harmony altogether. (If I had of studied music, I’m sure I’d be going after those notes too.) Seems like magic to me and I hope it happens sometime in the next three weeks.

They are calling for a couple of typhoons this weekend. Winds over 100 miles/hour – Word on the street is … be careful if I go outside. At first – it was like – duh?, why would I even think about going outside? Then I remembered my dependency on electricity. If that goes out, I’ll be caught in a dilemma. Stay in a pitch black, hot, muggy windowless room on the 13th floor without food, drink or internet OR hang out in gale force wind and rain dodging all sorts of debris (like the scene in Twister). Nice choice.

This trip continues to surprise. The good news – at least I’m not on a plane trying to land in it. Stayed tuned!

Transformation

I didn’t see it at first. But the buildings here are grey on purpose. They recede into the darkness. All’s that’s left is the splash of neon. Color suspended in the night. Almost no words anywhere to be seen. Just Chinese characters adding a touch of the exotic. Pavement reflecting brightness without the oppressive heat. Captivating!

Things that were threatening and alien less than a week ago have become a curiosity. No longer an overwhelming blur. Each deserving attention. That’s what night time, a fully belly and an expanding comfort zone will do.